


OutlawQueen Chronicles

by outlawqueenbey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic OQ, One Shots till I die, Outlaw Queen - Freeform, Outlaw Queen Advent Calendar 2016, Outlaw Queen Advent Calendar 2017, Outlaw Queen Fix It Week, Outlaw Queen Week, Personal Head Canons, Regina and Robin should have lived happily ever after
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 76
Words: 163,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlawqueenbey/pseuds/outlawqueenbey
Summary: One shots for OutlawQueen - from canon, off screen moments that should have happened, given prompts, random ass head canon and everything else in between. All of the OQ Week's are in here as well. Prompt me up for more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Just This One Time**

* * *

Just this one time

It's a never ending mantra that lingers in her mind…. _just this one time_ …. for one night she will let it happen, let the world wait just this one time. Her eyes catch the last bits of dancing flame of the dying candles, the room slowly but surely sinking into dark. The breath barely moves in her lungs as she stares up at the ceiling, debating whether or not she should move from this bliss, but then again maybe just this once she won't. Her lips feel swollen, her skin still tingling, her hair splayed out like an ink blot on the white silk pillow. In body she feels wonderful, but in her mind and heart there is torment. What happens tomorrow, or the next day or the day after that. Most likely she will distract herself other things, burying this burning in her soul. Yet, maybe just this one time it can flame, just for another minute she will revel in it.

A slight shiver runs up her spine so she tugs the light sheet over her body. A heavy sleepy breath ghosts against her cheek and she can't help the light smile that pulls at her lips. A warm palm moves to settle on her bare stomach. Her eyes turn to him, peaceful in his slumber, void of that pained expression he wore a few hours earlier. It didn't seem real, his lips crashing into hers, the desperation in his hands as he gripped the base of her neck. Her body responded on it's own, and just this one time she forgot the hesitating fear in her mind. Time stood still, for a moment, for those incredible few hours nothing else mattered.

Her gaze flickers around his face, if this is it, she want's to absorb every part of him. From his sandy brown hair that is tousled, to the slope of his nose, cut of his jaw hidden by the coarse stubble, the pink softness of his lips. Her fingers itch to touch him, just to feel his smooth skin one more time before it's all over.

Gently so not to rouse him she turns onto her hip, his palms falling easily into the dip of her back, settling lightly on the dimples at the base of her spine. She hears his light hum as he sinks deeper into the mattress. That flame deep down burns hot now, being this close to him, just this one time it can flourish.

What could it have been, if she found him earlier, if this circumstance was different. Would they be happy; of that she has no doubt. Where would they have been right now, if the past was changed? Maybe they would be in the Enchanted Forest, tucked away in a cabin together, living their days with children's laughter filling the forest. What would they have looked like? The image of a little Robin dances through her mind, blonde, blue eyed, taking after his father as they shot apples off a tree stump with matching bows. A little girl, with curly brown locks, picking flowers in a sundress. She's certain they would both have his dimples.

A tear escapes her eyes before she can tamp the emotion down. It's not fair to her heart to think of a future that wouldn't come to pass, but then again, just this one time she will create it; a life with her soulmate.

She has to move, pull back, give some space between them, fully knowing if she lets herself fall any further it will be to hard to let him leave again. He seems to have another idea though and as she starts to quietly shuffle away, turning her back to him, he fills that distance. Moving to tug her close, pulling her flush to his warm chest, his fingers findings hers, interlacing them over her chest. For a second she wonders if he is awake, the way his nose buries into her hair, but he exhales deep, cradling her a fraction tighter before settling back into his sleep once more.

This can't happen, she already knows she loves him, but nothing will come of it. She should move, but maybe just this one time …. for the last few precious hours she can savor being with him.

Her eyes flutter closed, and she moves, closer to him, after all, it's only just this one time.


	2. Crown Royal

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out …. over and over, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Focus on anything but him, focus on something not so irritating. He's not irritating, that's what irritating. Close your eyes instead, just let the wind circling around lightly, the chill is nice, makes the air crisp. Fingers fiddle with the hem of the dress, a velvet deep ocean blue, his eyes are ocean blue.  _No don't think about him_. Focus, find the stars, tiny diamonds, beautiful and mysterious, being stolen by the morning sun … stolen, the sun is a thief,  _no stop, don't do that_.

Shuffling on the grass, soft beneath honey light finger tips. This will work, the smooth blades being gripped between palms. Pull out some strands, cross over, pull under, blades become braids, locking together, interlacing perfectly like joined hands,  _dammit stop it now!_

A breath is huffed, this isn't working, apparently being alone outside was the worst idea, it's nature, he is nature, inviting yet unnerving, beautiful but scarred. For a moment, a minute, an hour, reprieve from his gentle irksome smirk needs to happen. The image in her mind needs to not be on the broad expanse of his chest, thick circumference of his biceps, the smooth yet calloused surface of his hands. What would it be like to touch them, have them wrapped around her waist, have that nauseating forest smell fill her entirely.

Groaning into the night, silently filtering through options to help clear her head. A small tug of ruby lips,  _wine_ , sweet sinful red wine would be perfect…. maybe not strong enough…. But that surely will be. Purple magic swirls, the intricate glass jar filled with sensual amber liquid appears. She chuckles to herself, how ironic it is now to be drinking this particular brand. The purple accents of the label match her magic, the crown on the front seemingly mocking her.

The first few sips go down with a slight burn, but the warmth spread it hot through her stomach, settling the fluttering of nerves down finally. This will work.

The buzz begins to swirl, a comforting friend massaging away the insecurities deep down when their eyes meet across the council table, there is something inside those cobalt blues that sends a tremor through her heart, and even as she composes and glares back, he doesn't move, doesn't flinch, just smiles small until she is the one to look away.

It's just physical, this tug and flame that won't burn out. No one would deny that he is handsome, so it's not like she is the only one whose noticed. But their comments all surround the color of his eyes, the perfect smile, or the build of his body. They don't see that his eyes aren't actually blue, they have this strange teal quality, flecked with greens and golds. They don't see his perfect smile, creates heart melting dimples in his cheeks beneath the golden stubble, nor do they see the one tooth, 3 to the right of the middle that is actually chipped. And his body, oh his body ….. well that's where the annoying incessant physical attraction stems from.

Her mind begins to wander through the amber rye haze, a memory that is burned till the day she dies. They were just chopping wood, nothing out of the ordinary, that group of rowdy men and his laughter echoed amongst all of them. She watched from the edge of a low balcony, leaning against the heavy iron cladding, absently finding him with each roll of her eyes. It was hot, the sun burning in the sky. She could see the darkening of the white undershirt at the base of his spine, and around his shoulder blades. With every swing of the the axe, his muscles tensed, and she found herself subconsciously swallowing a touch heavier against the new found dryness in her mouth. It's like he knew, knew she was there, knew she was watching him, knew what he was doing to her. Her hands tensed on the railing, a breathless  _dear god_ ran through her mind as the bronzed bare skin came into view, the sweat ridden shirt discarded on the side.

_I thought drinking was supposed to take your mind off him, not let it dance freely_

She growls, clenching the cool bottle in her hands, why why why, why won't he leave her alone, why must he be everywhere she is, always lingering, always finding her.

And as though the gods want to mock her torment right now, she hears him, the quiet familiar approach. If her heart skips a beat she ignores it. He doesn't say anything as his body slides down to the grass beside hers, leaning against the bench with a heavy exhale.

Breathe in, breathe out, inhale, exhale... ignore his eyes, look at the stars instead, don't you dare turn your head, say nothing. She turns, slightly, annoyed that she apparently has no control when it comes to this man. And it is a mistake, not listening, because the moment she finds his eyes, she is drowning, without a lifeline, sinking hard into the depths of them.

"Can I help you with something?" her scowl directed at herself fro breaking another rule, but he doesn't know that.

He shrugs, the sideways grin tugging his pale pink lips slightly upward "I was just looking for you that all"

Swallow hard, push it down…. "I wasn't aware I needed a babysitter" …. That's better, battle back, get sharp, he won't stay.

His eyes flicker down to the bottle, and a rumbling chuckle parts through,

_god that laugh…_

He bites down on his lower lip, through the playful smirk, "Drinking alone? Maybe that does qualify the need for a partner"

A dark eyebrow arches "I didn't say partner, I said babysitter"

"I prefer partner"

He stares heavy at her now, a slight shift in his body closer, his forest scent perfuming the air. He is warm, she can feel it, the thrumming of his heart nearly palpable from his proximity. She wonders if he can sense hers as well, the thundering racing of it, contrasting starkly against the solid calm steady beats of his own. She is not some love sick puppy, she is the Queen, but dammit she can't help the shallow breaths that now pull into her lungs, the overpowering itch to touch the spot on his chest where his tunic has unbuttoned.

He waits and she roams his body with her gaze for a moment or two. The glass bottle moves apparently on it's own, her hand guiding it without permission to him. Fingers brush, and she shivers for a half second. He frowns, curiously twirling the bottle in hand, reading the label before that damn warm chuckle escapes him once more.

"Crown Royal?"

Her eyes roll, of course he would see that, "It's just a brand"

His shoulder bumps into her in play "I would venture, that only  ** _you_**  have this particular brand,  _Your Majesty_ "

She grins, partially anyway, "Royalty does come with some perks"

She see's his smile from the corner of her eyes, beaming at the uncovering of the Queen's new sense of humor.

"It's rye"

His eyes crease…. "I have never tried it before actually"

It's her turn to be surprised, surely an outlaw would have been a master in liquors, isn't that what they do anyway, steal from the rich, give to the poor and drink all day through and through.

Her silent question apparently not to silent in her expression, or at least to him it's not, he can read her like no one before, a simple change in her eyes and he knows what she is thinking. That is irritating. Comfortably irritating.

"After my son was born I decided I would only drink during occasions of true celebration, and when I did, it would only be ale so I didn't get completely buggered. I always wanted to have some clarity if Roland needed me"

That's not fair, how dare he be that kind of attentive doting father…. And how dare he tell her that, as if to throw it in her face (it's not what he is doing, she is well aware)…. The pounding glow in her heart threatening to burst at his words. She melted every time she saw that little dimpled mop of brown hair.

Steal the quelling emotion, push it back, tamp it down.

"You've never tried Rye?...Well there's always a first for everything I suppose"

Eyes dance in his direction, a goading as slender fingers tip the bottom on the glass up.

He smiles, placing the tip at his mouth, letting the amber liquid swing forward. His eyes close, drinking deeply, adams' apple bobbing gently as he swallows thick. A trail of golden liquor runs from the corner of his mouth, don't lick it off…don't you dare lean in….

He must know, the glint in his eyes giving away the desire. Hesitation hits, a shiver runs deep following the ache in her core. Could she do it, this one time, let the world fall away just to taste him.

No it can't, he most certainly doesn't feel the same way, does he? His eyes tell a different story, the brush of his shoulder, lean on his body, touch of his fingers against hers once more. It's physical nothing else.

Time passes, the bottle moving between, the buzzing of brains rolling through. He jokes, she chuckles, he moves closer, she does to. It's unknown when his arm drapes around her, twirling the long chocolate between his fingers. She settles into the crook of his shoulder, sighing heavy, letting his warmth surround. The moon rises high, basking the grove in white light.

His gaze glues to her profile, drinking in the thick lashes that cast a shadow on velvet smooth cheeks, the parting of red lips, all to baiting for him to resist. His forehead leans into her temple, basking in the honey apple scent.

She presses into the nuzzling on his nose, the ghost of his lips against her hair.

"M'lady?"

She turns, finding his penetrating gaze, thick with lust and the lingering drunk state of the rye that has now been finished.

"You're Drunk" she chuckles, moving a fraction more so his palms can lay against her stomach, clutching and unclutching the velvet material. The thief smirks, "And you're sexy".

Her heart stops, the tone of his statement so different from any. She knows her allure, the way the dresses cling in all the right places, knows the way men gawk as she passes by. But there is something in his voice, a new found honesty, it's nerve wracking yet at the same time beautiful.

"What?" the question more breathless than she would have liked.

"I thought we were just stating the obvious". His fingers catch her chin, cradling it with unbearable gentility as he pulls her to face him.

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe its something else, but in the morning she can blame it on intoxication as her lips find his, soft in uncertainty at first, and yet this beating of her heart tells a different story.

She smiles into his kiss, rye was definitely the right decision.


	3. Prisoner

**Tumblr Prompt: What if the Genie had trapped Regina instead...what would happen if a certain thief steal the lamp...**

 

She had thought she was free, was so sure she had done it, planned everything to the last dotted i and crossed t. But men are foul, foul creatures, taking what isn't theirs, enslaving whomever they desire, stealing futures and condemning lives.

It was as though time had slowed as his lips moved. The Queen stood frozen in her chambers, to stunned to silence the man. She had escaped one prison, just to wind up in another. He wished to always be with her, he wished for her to be his, wished to have her till the end of time. She snapped from her daze, lunging at the man, a desperate attempt to save herself.

But it was to late, the golden shackles gripped her slender wrists, sealing her fate as she screamed in horror. The swirl of purple smoke spun around her body, tugging her into the awaiting cage. She clawed at the stone ground, furiously fighting against the magic till her nails bled. She felt him breath into her hair, his stench of cinnamon and tobacco coating her senses.

"You are forever mine, My Queen. My Genie"

Those were the last words she heard before darkness surrounded her. She thought she had escaped the King, thought she had finally found freedom, how silly a thought, she should have known, men are foul creatures.

**4 years later**

It's blank now, her mind has long lost its willingness to think and wonder. It's been to long, to many hours staring at the golden walls of her prison, to many run rises and sun sets staring out at the world through barred windows. A world she hadn't touched in more days that she cares to know.

She thinks she can smell the forest, the thick pine of woods, musky dampness of sodden ground. But then again, maybe she is just going crazy, making things up to occupy the void expanse of her empty mind. The prison swings back and forth, like a sick rocking of waves with each step her captor takes.

To say she loathes the man would be laughable. There isn't a word that describes the storming fire in her heart. It's nauseating, painful in a tormenting way, and completely all consuming. There had been a few days in the beginning he had let her out, given her moments of reprieve, allowed her to walk beside him at night where she couldn't be seen. His obsession with her grows every day, her skin crawls at every roaming of his eyes on her body, each wet revolting kiss he smeared on her cheek.

Twice she had tried to escape, incapacitating him with her magic, and running till her lungs burned. Twice she tried, and twice the rules of her new bonds caught her. 100 feet, that is how far she is allowed to go before the shackles freeze her. The realization devastated her heart. There truly was no escape unless he wished it, and that was the impossible.

The room jolts suddenly, and she is thrown onto the red plush carpet with a groan. The sudden whispering of voices echo in her tin can. The cage slowly is lifted, and she is frozen, something is wrong, her heart hammering in her chest as she backs into a corner. The voices that steal in the night are not his. She strains to hear their words, but they are like ghosting murmurs in the wind. She thinks to scream, rouse her apparently non existent owner. And then it hits her, this could be her chance, her way to freedom.

In an instant, her initial reaction to scream for him, is replaced with a sudden desire to scream out in help to whomever holds her now. But they are silent, and something holds her to that. Silence means safety. The room is thrown into darkness, a bag or sack she assumes. The clanging of other treasures ricochet off her cage.

They are thieves, stealing her…and that's when she panics. This could turn out even worse. Thieves are well known for their greediness, their rude terrorizing way of life, they are immoral, dirty and foul. Now she has no choice but to hope they don't know what she is, hope that some other poor villager will find her instead.

She knows they are running now, but it's surprisingly smooth, a rare jostle or bump. Exhaustion begins to pull her in, and before she gives in, the warm wetness of tears falls from her thick eyelashes. From one prison, onto the next. A never ending cycle.

It's peaceful as she wakes, hearing birds in the distance singing, a glow of sun easing through the windows basking her in it's warm embrace. It feels like a dream, like how she used to wake up years ago as a young girl, her stable boy nuzzled in close. But he is gone, there is no stable boy. Not anymore. She awakes with a pained sigh, waiting to be summoned. And she waits all day, left untouched as the sounds of their voices trail in and out. Ironic, thieves who wish to possess everything have no idea what they have truly stolen. She could give them anything, riches, kingdoms, whatever would satisfy their greed.

Three times the sun has now risen and set and still she waits, fighting between feeling thankful at the peace and yet the fear of uncertainty grows. The running of a river catches her attention and it's quiet around her. There is no bustling of voices, no shrewd cursing of words. Maybe they have left her, discarded the lamp without a second though. She could do it, listen to the sounds of the river for the rest of her days, alone.

It happens then, the soft crunching of rocks underneath boots, a settling down of a body beside her, she knows it's a man, can hear him whistling to himself. He is one of them, the thieves, he is the one that stole her, his penetrating forest smell a beaconing symbol. It's fitting she muses, a thief who smells like forest. She see's half a profile of him, nothing that gives away what he looks like. The sun is to bright, shadowing his face from her. She stiffens as his hand turns to grab her cage, this is it…holding her breath she waits for that awful tug of magic.

It swirls, vaulting her into the world. She inhales heavy, letting clean air expand her lungs, the feeling of the sun so much more palpable in the open. The purple smoke disappears around her, and there he is. She has to stifle the laugh from bubbling out, his face is white in shock, jaw hanging open, as he stares up at her. Clearly he had no idea what he stole, stupid thief.

She waits and he stares.

Her body freezes when he moves, slowly climbing to his feet in disbelief.

She eyes the man over, running along the broad expanse of his torso, thickness in his arms, strength of his legs, a nature built specimen. She hates men, all of them. This one will be no different, he will extort from her, blind to anything but his own desires. They all are.

He reaches forward and she recoils as though burned by fire. Fear roars into her veins as the man steps forward again. She begs her feet to move, but they betray her. The entirety of her body shakes, trembling with sweat as she stares at him closing the distance. She is dizzy, her vision beginning to blur, he steps again and her knees buckle.

She falls, waiting for the impact of the rocks. But it never comes. Instead she is pillowed into his chest, as he catches her, easing her down slowly. She tries to force him away, but the strength has left her body.

"Easy, I'm not going to hurt you" his voice is thick in accent, warm like honey. His fingers slide a long chocolate curl from her face as her eyes flick up to him. Her heart stammers and catches in her throat. They look like the ocean, crystal clear with flecks of greens and gold, they are the most beautiful eyes she has seen.

"Are you alright?"

No words form in her dry throat, she can only stare at the tousled dark blonde hair that frames his face, the gentility of his brow, stark in contrast to the hard cut of his jaw, hidden by matching stubble. Her fingers itched to touch him, why she had no idea, but his skin looked so smooth.

"Milady?" he breathes out, and she swears she can taste the mint on his tongue. "Who are you?"

His question strikes a nerve and their sudden proximity pulls her back to reality. She scrambles back from him.

"I won't hurt you" he nearly whimpers at the departure of this stunning woman in front of him. Her skin a pale honey under the dark satin purple gown. It hugs her petite frame, wrapping around the small of her waist, flaring out at the curve of her hips. He can see the shake in her breath as her exposed chest rises and falls, the gown cupping her breasts in shimming gold before disappearing in thick gold chains behind her where they are lost in her hair. Dark chocolate chestnut curls fall long past her shoulders. It's the heart shape of her lips, rose in color, the light brown beauty mark on the lower right side, contrasting a stark scar on the upper corner that has him rendered speechless. And then he finds her eyes, and the world is lost to him. However, it is not their chocolate beauty that drowns him, it's the sadness that swirls within.

"You have nothing to fear from me" he smiles gently, hoping to ease the storm in her eyes.

"That's what all men say"

He sinks into the husky vibration on her voice.

"I swear on my life; I will not hurt you"

She stares at him, the honesty in his eyes sets her heart on fire. There is something about him, something different, something that has her magic sparking in a way she has never felt. But years of deception have her mind barricading the emotion.

"the life of a thief doesn't seem like a high price for my trust" she drawls out. He chuckles, standing himself before extending a hand to her. "I have a son, trust me, I am in hurry to let him be an orphan"

He reaches down and her fingers find his. She nearly cries out at the hot electricity that stems from the contact, but it's not painful, quite the opposite, it's like a lifeline, crackling like warm fire, easing her battered soul. She wonders if he feels it to, her answer coming a moment later when his blue eyes lock onto their hands, He must feel it.

"Who are you?" He asks again.

She hesitates, "If I tell you, will you help me?"

The thief nods, not letting her hand go for a moment "I will"

Chewing her lower lip, she forces the hard bubble of fear in her chest, "My name is Regina"

The disbelief in his eyes solidifies to her that he knows who she is.

"The missing Queen" he breathes out as a smile cracks his lips

Her heart clenches, there it is. The greed of men. She can hear it in his voice.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it has been four years since you ran from the kingdom – "

"I didn't run"

She turns from him, storming away as the realization that she will be sent back to the castle sets in. back to her other prison, this time with no escape.

"I'm afraid I don't understand"

She flinches at this proximity behind her, but dares not look him in the eye, "I was kidnapped by a man, enslaved as his genie, forever condemned to live as his pet"

His palm settles on her lower back carefully, but she doesn't move away, but rather leans into him. There is something about her that shifted him, pulled something back out from the long lost part of his heart. The pain in her voice, sends a knife through him. No woman this beautiful should have to feel this much anguish.

"I assume you will take me back to the castle, now that you know who I am"

"Why would I do that?"

"The return of the Queen comes with a high reward"

"You're right, my son would want for nothing ever again…"

She sighs, crumbling internally as she blinks back the tears.

"….but I won't take you back"

She turns, not believing what he has just said "why, you could be a rich man. You don't even know me"

"A part of me feels like I do"

She doesn't move when his hand comes up to cup her cheek, she simply locks into his eyes. Her heart thunders, he feels familiar, thought it is impossible, and yet the feeling doesn't escape nor fades.

"What can I do, Your Majesty?"

"Set me free" she trembles

"I can do that, but I have a simple request"

She frowns, of course he does, they always do, all she can do it hope that he asks for something arbitrary, asks for anything that isn't her.

"I'd like you to come to my camp and let me cook you breakfast" he smiles.

Regina can't help but let out a breathless laugh, through the falling tears of relief as she grips his hand tight. This is it, she was finally going to be free, after years of being in a cage.

"Deal"


	4. I'm Drunk and You Irritate Me

The hall was chattering, mindlessly through tables, groups focused on each other with bouncing chuckles and hearty cheering of ale goblets. She sat while at the same table as the Charmings, not quite with them, choosing to revel in her own thoughts, and not needing to hear another damn hope speech from either. It had been almost a year, 10 months and 14 days since she had last seen her little boy. They say time makes it easier, but that was simply not true. Maybe wasn't as overwhelmingly consuming, and she didn't want to rip out her heart with every beat, but she missed him, painfully so.

When they first landed back in the Enchanted Forest, Regina knew she'd never be happy again. She'd internally decided that she would live out her life, alone in this awful castle, waiting for her son to find her. She supposes it is fortunate now that the annoying thief had forced his way into being her partner, and strangely it wasn't just for that one night.

She doesn't quite remember when it happened, between their incessant bickering and scowls, but there was a significant shift. Initially she blamed it on physical attraction, he is so handsome, so kind, such a good father, he has a sharp sense of humor just like her, arrogant in his need to protect, a body of hard planes and thick muscle, but incredibly soft and gentle late at night.

It kind of just happened, whatever this was. His persistence to annoy her, ended up with her lips attached to his at some point, and then it just snowballed. Heated kisses became passionate sex, bickering became playful teasing, and scowls became tender smiles.

But they don't talk about it. That's not part of their unsaid, unwritten rules. The don't talk about what they actually feel….feelings lead to pain (at least in Regina's mind) and she's had enough pain. He shrugged with a smile, told her whatever made her feel comfortable, letting her lead the way. But that was 5 months ago, and whether either would admit it, they both knew something was growing between them.

Her long nails tap on the wooden table top as she scans the room again. He's not here, probably still mad at her, she groans with a roll of her eyes. All she had done was protect them, they didn't need to come with her to face the Wicked Witch, and more than likely would have ended up as a pile of ash. So she went alone, and he was, well furious with her. Not that he has a right to be, they aren't  _in love_  …. they just care for one another…. a lot…

But she hasn't seen him since yesterday…he didn't even come to her bed chambers last night.

It is if the universe was reading her mind, because just as she was silently thinking she sort of misses him, there is is, strolling…. well stumbling in fact over to her. His usual light complexion is flushed, hair a bit messier, and the smile that is normally plastered on his face is hidden behind a dead panned look.

Throwing himself down onto the bench across from her, his words slur out a fumbled  _Your Majesssty._ She scoffs, waving a hand in front of her face "God Robin, care for some actual breakfast with that whiskey?"

He snorts in a huff, "worried about my appetite now are we….I thought we weren't allowed to worry about one another" He drags a long gulp from the bottle, staring at her with each moment.

Her arms fold across her chest as she leans back, defiantly sitting in silence, glaring at her thief. She can feel the Charming's' eyes glued to them, always needing to be in everyone's business, but she dares not break eye contact with Robin, who is now leaning on the table in a swaying attempt to invade her space.

He actually looks pissed off, something she isn't used to seeing in his soft blue eyes, and it has her stomach in a knot. Good thing they aren't in love, and she doesn't have to worry about how terrible her heart would ache if he left her.

Instead she tamps the unwelcome emotion deep down, opting instead for a disgruntled retort, drawling out in her husky tone "You're Drunk".

"and you irritate the shit out of me" he barks back.

Somewhere at another table, someone laughs, and she knows it's Will Scarlet as he snorts into his ale. The banter in the room had significantly died down, now replaced by mumbling conversations of those who want to show they aren't eavesdropping, but their tones hushed enough to hear that the thief just insulted the Queen.

"Excuse me?" Her dark eyebrow pulls up high with a murderous stare.

It apparently doesn't phase Robin in the slightest as he mirrors her expression...poorly.

"Oh I'm sorry, I thought we were just stating the obvious. I am Drunk, and you irritate me"

"Well glad you got that off of your chest, feel free to leave" She snaps, ready to have this conversation over and done with.

Robin waves the half drunk bottle of alcohol in front of her "Well, there are a few  _other_ things about you I'd actually like to  _get off my chest_ " he stumbles on the words but trudges forward regardless.

A flush of embarrassment creeps into her, she doesn't need everyone in the damn castle listening to things Robin doesn't like about her….but a Queen doesn't run, and she won't look vulnerable. So she stares back, hoping that he will see how uncomfortable he is making her. But the whiskey blurs his usual sharp notice of her emotions.

Without missing a beat, he starts to continue, but she is left somewhat stunned when what he says, is the exact opposite to what she was expecting.

"You irritate me, to the point that I can't stop thinking about you" he grumbles, staring down at the table with almost adorable irritation "I figured that if I got drunk enough, maybe for 5 minutes I wouldn't see you in every thought…. that planned failed miserably" He rolls his eyes, swigging back another round, readying himself for the next.

"I'm Drunk…. And you are so bloody beautiful, I feel like I can't breathe when I see you"

Everyone is now staring, and quite openly. Chairs have turned, the chatter is silent, they are all watching with side ways grins and open shocked mouths.

"I'm Drunk… And the only thing that I see when I close my eyes, is you... smiling that bloody beautiful smile"

The rouge on her skin flourishes, a fluttering of butterflies in her stomach as she does everything in her willpower to not smile.

"I'm Drunk…. And just hearing you name makes my heart stammer"

Though everyone else seems rather taken with the drunken babble, she is frozen in her chair, stuck in a strange bubble, listening to him rant on about her, and it's not entirely unpleasant...inappropriate for certain to be doing this in public where people can hear very openly that the Queen and the Thief are in fact in a relationship...if you can call it that.

She hears the small adoring sighs from certain people as Robin makes comment after comment, something about how  _goddamn soft her hair is, how her lips taste like sugar, annoyingly sweet and he can't go a day without kissing her -_ and while normally she would roll her eyes at such things, bold boisterous proclamations, all she can do is stare.

"I'm Drunk, and you are so incredibly sexy. It's unfair how badly I want you all the time"

The heat in her cheeks flare as she bites down on her lower lip to stifle the smile, the last thing she needs is for him to start gabbing about their sex life in public...their fantastic sex life.

"I ache for you…."

A choked out laugh spurts through the room from the Merry Men's table…but it doesn't stop the drunken monologue of Robin, who waves his hand towards the table, acknowledging what he just said with a chuckle, before turning, well swaying back to face her.

"…. physically, of course, but Regina it's more than that…."

His palm slams into his chest "my heart aches for you, I feel like I'm suffocating when you're not around me…you've stolen it, my heart. I know I gave it willingly, but you..." he points a finger at her, "you are the thief in this".

She swallows thickly, still sitting in silence as he shuffles around the table towards her.

"You drive me absolutely mad, Regina"

He stands a few feet from her, swaying slightly on his feet, the anger in his eyes drowned out by confused emotions. She stands, stalking towards him, half torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to roast him on the spot for making such a scene.

He can see it, kind of, the whiskey has his brain feeling like watery mush, but he makes it out, the battle in her head as she closes the distance between them. With a huff he finishes off the last remnants of the whiskey.

She stops, hands cross over her chest, her face painted in a scowl and he rolls his eyes, of course she won't say anything. It's infuriating to him, how dare she toy with him like this, and have the nerve to just stand there.

"Are you finished?" She dead pans

"Trust me, I could go on for hours thinking about the ways you irritate me" He retorts.

"Well by all means then…" her hand waves in front of her in challenge.

He is stunned for a half moment, but the smirk on her face, boils his blood. Damn her, he will stand her all day if he has to.

He bows dramatically, mis-stepping slightly, throwing out a hand into the tabletop to stop him from crashing to the ground "If you insist, Your Majesty" her title dripping off his tongue.

"I'm Drunk….And -"

"I love you"

Someone drops a goblet, and the dining hall falls deadly silent.

But the Queen doesn't move, doesn't blush, simply stands as stoically as royals do. She has to force her mask up damn lightning fast, in order to not break out in a laugh at Robin's face.

His jaw hanging open, eyes wide in disbelief.

Serves him right.

"Anything else?" her tone calm, un-phased by the bomb she just dropped on him, and on everyone else.

The shake of his head is near imperceptible, but she see's it. "Well then. I think we are finished here" She turns and walks away from him, avoiding every eye in the crowd that follows her till she is outside the doors.

..

…

….

Hours later, her fingers fiddle with a string from her duvet, a naïve attempt to take her empty her mind. All day she stayed in her room, and he never came in once. Not that she can blame him really, they agreed no feelings, and she just burned right through that with her confession. Her heart does however pain over the fact that it's nearly midnight, and he still hasn't come.

She won't cry though the tears brim in her thick lashes, it won't solve anything. It was probably more than he was bargaining for anyway. No one loves the Evil Queen, no one has and no one will. A simple fact of her life that is becoming concreted in her heart. She sinks down into the pillow that is propped on the headboard letting the quiet night surround her.

Staring into the stars, she hears the door open and her heart clenches tight, this was it, he was here to tell her they needed to stop, he needed space, they couldn't be together.

She knew it was coming, forcing herself to sit up and take the punch in the gut, head on.

His shirt is off as he slowly walks to the bed, avoiding her eyes with each step. She can't read his expression, he looks confused, he looks stunned, and he sort of looks relieved.

Not saying anything, he tugs the covers off her torso, and she can't seem to move as he climbs over top of her, wrapping his arms behind the small of her back, covering half her body, his head falls to rest on her chest. Her heart glows when he sighs into her.

It's automatic that her fingers begin to run through his sandy brown hair, the other hand trailing lazy lines up and down his arm.

"Did you mean it?" his stubble scratching her skin through his whisper.

"Yes" she doesn't miss a beat, leaning her chin to the crown on his head.

He hugs her a fraction tighter, burying his face into the swell of her breast with a hard exhale.

"Will you tell me again tomorrow?" he muffles

"Yes"

"And the day after that?"

She chuckles lightly, stroking across his scalp, her lips pressing to his forehead gently.

"Yes"

"And everyday that follows?"

"Yes"

He fractionally lifts himself up, finding her gaze watery, accompanied by a tender smile. Locking to her eyes he bites down on his lip with a grin…

"Will you tell me right now?"

Regina beams, pulling him closer to her so their foreheads can touch, and lips can brush.

"I love you"

And she kisses him because she can, because she wants to, he wants her to.

Robin pulls back, trailing his lips across her jaw, down the column of her neck and over her heart. She soaks in the affections he places on her chest, on the swell of her breast, just over her heart, cradling him again, when he returns to lay back down on her, arms still wrapped tightly around her torso, nullifying any instance of space between them.

An easy few minutes tick by with the steady rise and fall of her breaths moving his head, the soft beating of her heart pulsing in his ear. Her hands never stop carding through his hair, nor cease running over his arms.

He loves her, more that she will ever know.

"Regina?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"I know I'm Drunk, but I love you"

"I know"


	5. Every Morning and Night

  
**Tumblr Prompt: 500 words of Outlaw Queen -**

She wakes up to it nearly every morning, goes to sleep with it every night. Sometimes in the middle of her work day it happens, catching her off guard, setting her mind in a haze. It brings her to the highest peak, before crashing down like a wave. She flushes, loses her breath, shakes and trembles each time. It's something in her years before she'd never experienced, and now was completely unwilling to give it up, and so willing to let it happen. She began to crave it, it moments when it definitely shouldn't be in her head.

Once or twice or in fact many more, she's caught herself melting into her own thoughts over it, feeling hot and embarrassed when others call her out on the absence of her mind. It's intoxicating, it's power. Her sleep is sinfully blissful after, her days a flicker brighter than before. She loves that it varies, sometimes barely there, others so overwhelmingly present it feels as though she may black out. That has happened a few times now, drowning in it, being swallowed whole, surrendering to the electricity and then completely falling to pieces.

It's a game now, seeing how long she can last its monumental attack, she fights, biting her lip, scratching at whatever her long nails can find. She whimpers, growls, moans and screams as it takes her down. And she loves it. Every single second. This morning is no different, catching her off guard though her subconscious in sleep knew it would happen. It's playful in it's beginning, a gentle pawn nudging her to arouse, followed by a bold strike that has her heart fluttering. She clamps down, waiting to see what happens next, focusing on the hard motions followed by smooth succulent torture. It slides away, roaming other avenues, coaxing her from sleep.

She's a Queen, and wouldn't dare fall so easily at it pulls and tugs, slickens and slows before diving back in. Her body reflexes, hitching away before falling back, giving just enough, but holding her ground. It teasing, barely making contact, an delicious annoyance that has her growling in response. She goes to move, but it beats her there, and then all is lost. She pants, falling apart it finds her weak spot, relentless in it's pursuit of her surrender. Her voice now begs, pleading through it's hitched shake. Fire rolls through her veins, her heart pounding so furiously it threatens to break apart. She knows it's over, the Queen loses, once again as the fireworks start to explode, dragging her soul to the peaks before sending her flying back down.

Her breath is ragged as she sucks the oxygen back in, legs full in their tremble as she comes back to the reality of day. Another defeat, though gladly given. She smiles, a breathless laugh parting through ruby lips. Another morning she rises with it, and by the look on his face, she will definitely be going to sleep with it.

Who knew all that needed to break an Evil Queen, was a determined thief and his incredible tongue.


	6. Full Circle

 

Prompt: Missing Year - Regina tells Robin about the Lion Tattoo, and he takes her somewhere she never thought she would go back to.

She didn't know she was doing in, apparently her subconscious always sought it out. Trailing its dark edges and figure with her fingers without her even realizing. So it was no different now, that her hand was gripped around the tattoo, as she lay over Robin's naked chest, slick with salty sweat, feeling the heavy beating of his heart on her own bare skin, as their lips smoothed and molded together lazily.

Months had passed in the Enchanted Forest, and it had only taken this damn thief a few weeks to scale her walls and find himself inside her own personal castle. They'd bickered non stop in the beginning, he was smug, she was sharp tongued. Never ending between the eye rolling and annoyed tones. But such as life is, bickering became fun, they would walk alone together and barb back and forth, laughing and scoffing at each other. Casual walks side by side, moved into the gentle intertwining of fingers, leading to gentle smiles and wandering gazes. Robin had made the first move, changing everything, catching her off her guard with the soft press of his lips to her. It snow balled from there, and now they would bicker not about having to work together, but about having to be apart.

Regina noticed the tattoo about 2 months ago, glaring out at her like a beacon. How she hadn't seen it before, well that remains to be alluded, granted her eyes were probably rolling in the back of her head, from irritation or pleasure, which ever. His arms had curled around her waist as she stood out of the balcony in the middle of the night. The warmth of his chest hugging her bare back as her nails raked over the toned skin of his forearms. And then there is was. She figured she would have run, as she did before, but surprising even herself, she stared down at the tattoo, and leaned back into it's owners embrace, smiling through a few stray tears as she listening to him hum in her ear. They had found each other, after all those years and her running away, her soulmate was here, had been for months before she even knew.

"You're lost in thought again" his timber voice whispered into her hair.

Regina smiled, laying her head down onto his chest, and immediately finding his tattoo with her eyes and fingers. Soaking into the warmth of his body, the pine and honey smell of his skin, she traced the emblem, wondering if he should know.

"It's a crest of my family" Robin murmured, knowing without looking where Regina's eyes were glued. She had a strange fascination with his tattoo, always looking at it, always touching it, getting this distant look in her eyes.

He was completely in love with the Queen, a blind man could have seen it. Every part of her pulled him in, the curves of her body, silky quality of her skin, smoothness of her long chestnut curls, the perfection of her lips and expression of her eyes. She was beautiful that much was known to anyone, but what Robin had come to find out, was that it wasn't her beauty that he fell in love with, but her heart.

While most would scoff and pledge it was as dark and dangerous as they come, Robin had found quite the opposite. The Regina he, woke up to in the mornings and fell into bed with at night, had a breath-taking laugh, a smile that could dazzle the sun, a shyness in her actions. There was so much more about this woman than people would ever know. Robin wasn't naïve, he knew of her past, and the strength and brashness she possessed, but it was more in a protection of herself that a true personality.

The woman he loves, likes to pretend she doesn't want him to snuggle her, but barely puts up a fight when his arms wrap around. The women he loves, snickers at crude jokes overheard from the Merry Men's table, while trying to maintain her regal mask. The woman he loves is soft, and warm, a complete contrast to the hard exterior she wears in public.

Yes, Robin knew a while back he had fallen for the Queen, and while he was fairly certain, she also loved him back, they never said it, never brought up emotions or feelings. He could see the fear in her eyes if he did, the nervousness that suddenly tensed in her shoulders. So while he could feel that she loved him, they had yet to be spoken. And he was for now, content just to be with her, as is, waiting for her to feel safe and comfortable more so with herself, not necessarily him. It was an internal battle, he knew it. Learning to find a way to love yourself, before you could love another.

They lay together, breathing in sync, with Robin ghosting his palms along her naked back in mindless motions, wondering how he ever lived his life without this woman.

"Can I ask you something?" she questioned quietly, propping herself up on his chest.

"Of course" he smiled.

Her fingers raked through his tousled hair "You can't laugh okay. And I won't be compared to the nauseating Charmings after this. Understood". Her dark eyebrow arched high in a stoned expression.

Robin chuckled, brushing back a fallen curl of hair "Whatever you wish".

Regina exhaled a long smooth breath, sitting up on her knees, letting Robin shuffle up the bed, half still in lazy lounging, but up enough to focus on her. Swallowing hard, she grazed over his chest, laced with old and new scars of a dangerous lifetime as an outlaw, to the blonde stubble on his face that hid knee weakening dimples, and up to his blue eyes, that she had come to realize were flecked with greens and golds, beautiful in their own right.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" She bit down on her lower lip, trying to fight off the flush that crept into her cheeks.

Robin shrugged, raising an eyebrow "I suppose so. My mother used to talk about soulmate's"

Suddenly curious, Regina shuffled closer to him "What did she say?" her palm resting over his heart. Robins hand curled around her fingers, holding her to his chest with a crooked smile.

"She said that soulmates are like the sun and moon. They chase each other day and day, night after night, getting glimpses through time of the other, yet always apart. But the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night just so she could breathe. And the moon cherished her sun beyond words she would do the same, just in hope of seeing him one more time" Robin smiled, winking at a stunned Regina. "It's an old wives' tale though. But in essence I suppose that yes I do believe in them"

"I had been married to the king for little over two years, and I was so unhappy here. My life encompassed being a pretty trophy to a man three times my age at balls and parties, and that was it. I wasn't needed for anything else, my mind was beginning to die, my heart slowly losing it's will to beat" She frowned over the memories, but her heart glowed at the feeling of Robin's hand squeezing hers back. "I was so overwhelmed by loneliness that one night, I  _fell_ from my balcony and was caught by a fairy"

Robin stared at Regina, his breath barely moving as he thought of her past, the torment she must have lived through, not being loved when that is all she truly craves. He understands her past, better than most probably.

"She, uhhh, she took my to a tavern in a village nearby here, told me I needed to find love" She smiled shyly at the memory, that flicker of hope in her heart that she thought long since died flared back to life at the fairy's words. "She stole some pixie dust, and showed me my soulmate"

Robin's heart froze and crashed, she had a soulmate, and it wasn't him. Sinking he waited for her to ask for help to find the man, to find her happy ending, and he would, he would do anything for her, she deserved it and he loved her enough to move mountains and part seas to get her there.

Regina saw the shift in his eyes, and she smiled at the pout that began to grace his face.

"I ran though, before I saw his face"

Blue eyes met dark brown in confusion.

"Then how will you find him?"

Her fingers gripped around his forearm, "Because I saw this".

The room went silent, Robin's eyes falling to where his tattoo was being touched, and Regina sat waiting for his reaction to either run or well she didn't really know. How easy could it be to swallow that your soulmate was the Evil Queen. Regret over telling him began to bubble, maybe she shouldn't have, now there is no going back. He knows they are fated to be together, he and the Evil Queen. She fell in love before she knew about the tattoo though, that was her saving grace in a strange way. That it wasn't over the fact she saw it first and then fell in love, but the exact opposite.

"I'm your soulmate?" Robin breathed out, flicking his gaze up to hers in astonishment. Regina bit down on her lip, shrugging her shoulders softly through the shy smile.

"That makes you mine then?"

"Yes"

The smile that tore across Robin's face, took Regina by surprise, and she was suddenly impacted by his lips on hers, catching and pressing into her with every ounce of his heart. He climbed the bed, pushing her down onto her back as he covered her with his own body, never releasing her lips, that were meant for him. All of her was his, meant for him, created to fit into each crevasse of his soul. He felt as though he was on fire, burning from the inside out, yet drowning in an ocean that was all her.

"You're mine" It wasn't a question, but an undeniable truth that parted from his lips and fell into Regina's smile.

"I am"

"And I'm yours"

"You are"

He kissed her as his heart began to tremble over the clarity of his new found situation. And it was beyond anything he could have imagined but at the heart of it all, it felt like peace, full encompassing, pure white peace.

A few days passed, Robin and Regina attached to the hip, smiling like love sick fools in their privacy, learning every part of the other. He had requested to take her somewhere, it was a surprise and he was deadly stone walled in not giving up where they were headed. She acquiesced after the pouty lips and baby blues frowned, slapping him on the shoulder with a heavy roll of her eyes.

So here they are now, walking in comfortable silence through the nearby village, hands locked together as they wound around the cobble stone paths. The stores and homes looks oddly similar to her as they turned a corner, a over pass casting a shadow on them before she realized exactly where they were. Her heart stammered, as the tavern sign came into view, the door that so long ago she stood outside of, staring in, to afraid to walk through.

He felt the stiffening in her spine, the undeniable tension in her hand, his ears picking up on the quickening of her breath. Turning to face her, he smiled, leaning in to kiss the uncertain look that swirled in her eyes.

Pulling back, one arm wrapped around her slender waist in the crème gown she was wearing, flowing out at her hips, cupping her breasts that were adorned with diamonds. Her beauty truly was something that could not be rivaled.

"This is the place where you found me" He winked, carding a hand through her long dark curls. Regina nodded, her eyes flickering over to the door where a rowdy crowd was cheering amongst their ale and chatter.

"I couldn't really think of a better place to bring you. Back to the start"

She curled inwards, remembering the fear that had blown through her heart that day, seeing him bathed in green dancing dust, but so terrified of truly being happy. They couldn't have been, she was the Queen and the King certainly wouldn't have let her go.

"Back to where I ran away from you" she whispered, blinking back the few tears that had begun to gather on thick lashes. His fingers caught her chin, tilting her face back up so he could meet her eyes.

"Not this time" he smiled, kissing her softly before opening the tavern door. She went to follow, but his hand slipped from her grip "You'll find me" he smirked, backing away from her and nudging the door closed. She stood frozen to the stone road, a slight tremble in her hands as she watched his blurred body move into the crowd. It was like no time had pass, here she was standing in front of a tavern door, knowing that the love of her life was on the other side. Fear had driven her back last time, and she couldn't help but feel that small twinge in her stomach begin to resurface. Closing her eyes, she exhaled heavy, pressing a palm to the oak door. Minutes passed by as she tried to calm the erratic beating of her heart.

She thought of that young girl, who loved a stable boy, was forced to watch him die so she could become Queen, a title she never wanted, the long lonely years spent in that prison, the day the Genie killed the King and she became the sole Ruler. Regina choked back a sob as her memories came to pass, the years spent hunting for Snow White, being feared by everyone, casting the curse, finding Henry, losing him to the Savior, finding him in Neverland only in the end to be back in the same world she had so desperately tried to escape.

Life was a full circle in this moment, but the future wasn't quite as terrifying this time around. She thought of his baby blue eyes, the easiness of his laugh, strength in his body, coarseness of his stubble, and the purity of his heart. He was hers, and she was his.

The door pulled open, and she crossed the barrier, full of light as she walked over to the man with the Lion Tattoo.

Fin.


	7. Falling into Fire

 

* * *

**Prompt: About that pesky rumor and my take on what is going to happen.**

"Robin No! There has to be another way!"

"We both know there isn't. It's alright, as long as you all get out of here safe"

Panic bubbled inside her as the cave fire engulfed the walls. Tears were thick in her eyes as she heard the others scramble and run, the rocks beginning to fall around them.

"I'm not leaving you here" Her voice trembled, voiding her of any strength she tried to possess.

"You have to Regina. I won't let you die"

"And I won't let you!" She threw her arms around him, hugging him in a vice grip, burying her face into the crook of his neck. His forest smell was burning in her nose, sweat beading down his neck as he held her in his arms.

"Regina, you have to go" He whispered into her ear, brushing back the long chocolate tendrils, relishing in the feeling of them one last time. She shook her head with a mumbled  _no_ , her arms wrapping around his neck tighter. This couldn't be it, this wasn't their end, her heart was burning in fear over the idea of losing him.

The floor began to shake, rumbling heavy as the archway began to crack beneath them.

Robin pushed her back, "Regina, you need to leave!"

"No, Robin. I won't lose you" Her tears falling heavy onto the porcelain skin of her cheeks. Robin smiled, trying desperately to stay strong for her, not daring to let speak the fear in his own veins, the devastation in leaving her, never seeing her whiskey brown eyes, that dazzling smile, the apple vanilla smell of her hair.

His hands moved to cup her cheeks, his thumb running along her silk tear stained skin of her cheekbones, leaning in so his forehead could rest against hers. She was trembling beneath him, clutching to his forearms, where his lion tattoo lay beneath. The symbol that brought them together, even though he already knew he loved her before hearing of their destined fate.

"You can't do this. I can find another way"

"There is no other way"

Through her blurred vision she found his crystal blue eyes, her fingers moving to scratch his blonde stubble, the other hand moving to rest above his heart.

"What about our family, our kids? What am I to tell them?"

"You'll tell them, their father died saving their mother, and he wouldn't have had it another way"

"Robin, no" she cried out.

The cave thundered as the first cement block falling into the fire pit. He turned back, seeing time running out before him. "Regina, please. We both aren't making it out of here. Hades demanded a soul, and it has to be mine"

"You can't do this to me, I just found you, I just got you back" Sobs wracked through her as she scrambled to hold him tighter "We haven't even had time just to be together".

"I know my love and for that I am so sorry. But Regina, don't ever forget that I love you"

She cried through his omission, they hadn't said those three words to each other, though she knew in her heart that she loved him, and he loved her. Time had been stolen from them, over and over again.

"I have loved you since the day you fell back into the Enchanted Forest. Through your stubbornness, I loved you. I've seen you fight against ever obstacle and win. I love how you opened your heart to my son, given him a mother when he had none. I love every part of you, and I'm sorry I've never told you before. I should have said it every day since I met you"

He couldn't stop the tears that now fell from his eyes. The block behind his feet plummeted, sending a torrent of flames up. He grabbed her waist, stepping her further back, towards the fading portal.

"No, Robin, please just come with me!"

"I can't Regina, Hades will come after you and our boys. I can't let that happen"

Her heart was shattering into pieces as she held onto him, trying desperately to cling to him, forcing him to step back with her. He held firm, pushing her back gently as the cave crumbled around them.

"Regina…."

His words were cut off by her lips, pressing furiously into his. He kissed her back, with as much love and passion he could exude. Feeling their souls embrace one last time. He could taste the salt on her lips, the shake of her body in his hands clenching his heart painfully.

"Robin, I love you. Please don't leave me" she mumbled out, choking on each word.

She felt his thighs press into her own, guiding her feet backwards slowly. She fought back, trying to hold firm in her place, but he was stronger, shuffling them back towards the fading portal.

He parted their lips, finding her eyes once more, smiling through his tears as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You Regina Mills, are the love of my life. I can't thank you enough for letting me love you and for loving me back"

"Please, please don't do this"

He leaned in catching her lips for the last time "You are truly stunning in every way, My Love"

A boulder fell from the ceiling, shaking them from their embrace. He took that moment of distraction, his hand firmly placed on her torso as he pushed her back, feeling her fall into the portal as she screamed for him. He watched her fade, disappear into the tunnel, seeing her eyes streaming with tears as she fell.

The fires stormed around him as the last block under his feet fell, vaulting him down into the fire pits of hell. Then it all went black, like smoke. It shocked him there was no pain, no searing burning on his skin, or tearing of his body.

* * *

 

She sat against the window, staring like a statue into the outdoors. 3 days had passed and she hadn't moved, hadn't slept, refused to touch any of the plates of food that were constantly set beside her. Emptiness, that was the only thing she felt. Her eyes were dry like a desert from the relentless tears that fell, her lips chapped from dehydration. Exhaustion roamed her body, but every time her eyes shut all she saw was his eyes, the last thing she could cling to of his, smiling through their tears as she fell back.

It didn't matter who came to see her, what they said, how hard they tried to break through to her. He was gone and she was lost without him. Thank god for the Charmings, for Emma and the Merry Men. They had taken up looking after Roland and Henry. She couldn't even bring herself to look at them.

The sun was starting to set, another day of heartache tearing her soul apart. She shuffled, drawing up the blanket that still lingered with his forest smell. She couldn't let him go, wearing his shirt, sipping the whiskey he loved. How was she supposed to ever feel whole again, to feel love like he had brought out in her.

She didn't hear the shuffle of feet behind her, barely registered the woman that sat down along her side on the couch. Their fingers felt cold and slender.

"Regina?"

Her heart stuttered at their voice, she inhaled sharp, turning her eyes from the window to find her mother sitting beside her. Confusion flooded her as she stared at the older woman.

"Mother?" her words shaky and dry.

"Hello my love" Cora smiled, gripping her daughters' hands. Regina flinched, pulling her hands away as she frowned heavy.

"How are you here?"

Cora sighed, seeing how frail Regina had become, the dark circles under her eyes, the grey pallor of her skin. "You're not well Regina"

She rolled her eyes, staring back out the window "Go away Mother" she huffed, tugging her safety blanket closer around her.

"Do you remember what my unfinished business in the Underworld was Regina?"

She said nothing back, feeling the tears flood into her eyes once more, unable to control them as they fell.

"It was you Regina, ensuring your happiness"

"I can't ever be happy again... I lost him" she choked out, struggling to bring oxygen into her frozen lungs.

"Regina, I haven't always been the best mother. I just wanted the best for you, even if it clouded my judgement"

Cora sighed heavy through her guilt "I took away your first love, forced you to be the Queen when I shouldn't have"

Regina trembled through her pain, willing silently her mother would just stop talking and leave her alone.

"I took away your happiness once, but I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I want to bring your happy ever after back again"

"You Can't" she whispered feeling the ache in her heart, breaking what was left holding her together.

Cora smiled, signaling beyond Regina's vision to the door way with a slight nod of her head. She stole her daughter's life once before, but there still one last chance she could make it up to her.

"I hope you can forgive me Regina"

Cora stood, pressing a gentle kiss into the forehead of her daughter who sat frozen like a statue, unrelenting to move as her tears continued to fall.

Regina sat silently, staring back out the window as that emptiness swam through her heart once more. There was no way to be happy again. She lost love once, and now had lost it again. Even Henry couldn't pull her dying soul back to life. She leaned heavy against the cushions, feeling colder than ever.

 

"M'lady?"

Her heart stammered, as she froze. Her eyes squeezed shut tight, trying to faze out the torture of hearing his voice. The couch sank beside her, a warmth soothing into her arms where hands began to glide. She could feel his hand cup her cheek, pulling her face towards him. But she wouldn't open her eyes, fearing that when she did, it would all be a horrific illusion, to feel him here when he couldn't be.

"Regina, My Love. Open your eyes"

She shook her head, sinking deeper into the false embrace of him.

"It's alright Regina"

"No it's not"

"Why My Love?"

She shuddered, "because if I do open my eyes, you won't be here. You're a figment of my imagination"

She felt his ghost lean in, the feeling of his lips so real against her own as he pressed into her, carding his fingers through her hair. Her body reacted on it's own accord leaning into his kiss, letting the façade hold her for a moment longer.

Her eyes fluttered open involuntarily and there they were. Crystal clear like the ocean, flecks of greens and golds, smiling down at her.

"Hi" he whispered,

Her hand fell down to his heart, feeling the steady beating beneath. She began to cry again, out of confusion and fury that her mind would let this feel so real.

"You're not real, you can't be" she sobbed.

"I am Regina. We are here, this is true" He pulled her into his arms, gently cradling her head to his chest.

"How?" she trembled.

"Your mother saved me"

She frowned, as the realization dawned on her at the words her mother just spoke moments before.

The woman who had once destroyed everything, had brought back her happy ending.

* * *

**Chapter 24: Chocolate Cake**


	8. Mark Me

Magic had always been a touchy subject for him, for years he had detested it, but now, it was something much more pure to his heart, for she was the one who wielded it. What it could do, he knew had very little limits, but he loved the small wisps that danced from her fingers tips at meaningless things, the glittering that fell around him on certain occasions, and most especially he loved the purple smoke that engulfed their bodies when it was desirably necessary.

So yes, magic had become a part of his life, a part to which he fully was beginning to embrace. Her body leaned into his chest, letting her honey vanilla scent coat his soul, her curves melting into his hard planes. Nights like this were far to precious, the quiet peace of just being together, holding her close, letting his lips roam her silk skin.

She chuckled at the tickling of his beard on her jaw, squirming slightly in his arms as she readjusted to feel him more, while still keeping a hazy focus on the paper resting in her lap. Her eyes flickered down to his tattoo, her heart glowing at it's distinction that committed her soul to his, and visa versa. It had been days before, well rather months in the Enchanted Forest, she already knew she was falling in love with him, no pixie dust needed to cement that fact in her mind. He had told her much the same, revealing he knew he loved her before they landed in Storybrooke.

Her fingers danced gently along it's dark lines, trailing a simple path of comfort around it's edges. He sighed into her neck, hugging her fractionally tighter into his arms. This woman was everything he never knew he had needed.

They sat softly together, as she moved back to the blank pad in front of her, letting her magic seep into the quill for a moment. His eyes were closed, but he could hear the scratching of ink on her paper and then there was this sudden heated prickling sensation on his lower bicep. He groaned in confusion, as the feeling of warm wax sunk into his skin. Turning he lifted his arm, and was shocked to find the smallest new marking.

A black crown appeared, thin as a thread, with three pointed crests and faded in diamonds in the rounding. He saw her eyes move down to his arm, her smile small and shy as her hand continued to sketch the paper below. The warming pins came back, a slowly two arrows appeared, crossing over one another, pointing to his shoulder beneath the crown as if holding it up.

She chuckled as her fingers grazed the new marking on his skin for a moment before she leaned down over the marking, kissing it softly before gently blowing a cold breath over it, letting the tattoo fade.

"Wait" he shuffled, stalling the erasing "Keep it there"

Her eyebrow arched high in question as she turned to face him, knees settling over his hips, palms pressing into his chest. He stared into her eyes, falling further into their depths as she smiled that one smile that set his heart on fire.

"You like it?" her voice barely above a whisper.

He reached up, catching her lips, revealing in the small moan that vibrated in her throat. "Very much so" he mumbled against her parted mouth.

She sighed into him, before settling back down against the cushions, as he picked up her pen and pad himself, cocking a playful eyebrow at her.

"Your turn" he grinned.

It spread against her ribs, just under her bra strap, warm candle wax, dancing like a smalls pins. She exhaled as the sensation began to fade, opening her previously closed eyes to his smile. His fingers traced the bottom of her silk tank, nudging it up gently, revealing skin inch by inch, till the marking was within his view.

He smirked, biting down on his lower lip as she watched him with a heated gaze, arching slightly as he bent down to press a kiss into the new symbol.

"We match" he ghosted on her ribs, letting his tongue have a slight teasing taste. She shuffled, rolling slightly to find an identical tattoo to the one that now was embedded on his arm.

"You can remove it if you wish" He nodded, understanding she may not want such permanence on her body. Her arms wound around his neck, as she pulled her body back to sit into his lap, his hands finding purchase on her hips.

"I like it" she smiled moments before catching his lips again, the pen and paper falling to the carpet as their passion began to ignite.

Yes, Robin Hood never was a fan of magic, until he met the right wielder of it.

And as days, months and years passed, she would find herself sitting in her office, with the familiar heated glow beginning to rise on her skin, and she couldn't help but smile at the at the small words that formed, the tiny drawings that painted her body, or simple messages of his love that etched her skin.

And while she may not have kept them all, a few did remain, telling the story of their love for anyone's eyes to see.


	9. Forgiveness

 

She'd noticed the concern in his eyes, slouch of his shoulders, the minimal distant responses he gave as his mind wandered somewhere else. They were all standing in the loft once more, waiting for Emma and Rumple to hopefully return with Hook. An hour prior, Regina and Snow had walked to the cemetery to find Daniel's grave. She sat in the grass, running her hand along the granite stone, battling between a flicker of sadness she wasn't going to get an opportunity to see him, but ever so thankful that he had moved on to a better place. Her mind lingered on his last words, a begging plea for her to love again, and her heart smiled at the fact she had done just that, found love, lost it, but fought to get it back. Daniel would have liked Robin, of that she had no doubt, the two were ironically similar in their gentle smiles, sweet spoken words and fierce protective nature over her.

What Regina didn't know what that behind her, a few rows back leaning against a large oak tree was her thief. Even when she told him she and Snow would be fine, he simply couldn't take the chance something could happen and he wasn't there for her. So he waited, and followed, finding her kneeling at the tombstone. He could hear her talking to him, telling him how much she loved him, would always love him but was thankful he was in a better place. His heart ached for her, the pain of her past continued to haunt her at every turn. But there was also a different reason for the burning ache inside, a longing desire to also find absolution for someone in his past.

He watched as Regina stood, and found Snow ahead of her, the pair walking back to the town, arms linked together. He thought of following but there was a pull in another direction, so he went left instead of forward. Rows upon rows of headstones, names of people he didn't know, had heard of, met once or twice, a few friends. He stopped frozen for a moment seeing the names of his parents carved into granite, both stones tipped over, they were gone, together in the place everyone seeks in the end. He continued till a dark brown citrine headstone came into view. He knew it was hers. Sighing heavily, the name sunk into his heart heavy like an anchor… _Marian Elaine Locksley_. It stood tall, she was here but where he hadn't a clue, and the group was so focused on finding Hook he couldn't wish it upon them to take on finding another lost soul.

A tear fell and he brushed it away quickly, he wasn't really sure what to say, to the woman he once loved beyond anything in the world, his best friend, his partner in crime, the mother of his son. There was so much he wanted to say, had thought about it since the fake Marian turned out to be Zelena. What he would say to her know, how he would ask her forgiveness for not seeing the truth, but no words came out.

Maybe he didn't deserve to be forgiven.

He'd walked back to the apartment in silence, clicking the door open to be greeted by a pair of concerned eyes under her smile. Their fingers interlaced as her question passed silently to him, to which the only response he could muster was a small smile back and a shake of his head. He leaned into her temple, inhaling the honey vanilla of her hair as his lips pressed lightly into her.

She could feel the tension in his shoulders, rigidity in his spine, hard pulls of air, riddled in anguish. Why he was so tangibly sad, so god forsakenly low, Regina did not know, and it punctured her. She should be able to take care of him, to bring a smile to his face, lighten his load, as he does for her. Arriving back from the cemetery, David and Henry said Robin had gone for a walk, that he seemed a bit off kilter after Regina and Snow had left.

Henry peppered her with questions about Daniel; did she see him?, had he moved on?, what did she say to him? The melancholy thick in her voice over the fact she didn't get to see his face, nor hear his voice, ask for his forgiveness - but she felt, better, less guilt ridden she supposes, happier she had the chance to at least tell him everything she wanted too. At that moment Robin's hand pulsed in her own, a quick squeeze before he left go, slowly making his way up the stairs with nothing but a quiet muffled  _good night._

That's when it hit her, with the thick exhale from Robin as he left, understanding rang into her mind.

Marian.

He wanted to find Marian.

Here they all were, findings Emma's Pirate, Regina making peace with her father and first love, and Robin was here, dutifully beside her, while wrestling with his own needs to feel absolution. She ached for him.

The conversation died, and Regina excused herself early, cracking open their bedroom door to find Robin sitting on it's edge, head buried into his hands.

Sitting down beside him, it's automatic that she begins tracing the tattoo with her fingers,around the crest border, into the small details of the white lion inside. It' eases her mind in moments when the dark clouds seem to heavy, and not once has Robin ever pulled away from her tailings.

He stiffens slightly next to her, shaking his head near imperceptibly at her whispered  _tell me_  into his temple.

"I found her headstone, she's here"

"We can find her too you know"

"I can't ask you all to help me find her when we haven't even found Hook yet"

She leaned in to rest her chin on his shoulder, "Robin, being down here means we all have an opportunity to find resolve and forgiveness, that includes you"

"I'm not sure I deserve her forgiveness" his voice barely above a whisper, cracked and disjointed as he stares at their joined hands, thumbing the ring on her right hand, momentarily wondering what it would look like on the left instead.

Removing one hand from his, she turns to cup his cheek, forcing him to look at her. The pain in his eyes breaking her heart - "If I can find forgiveness from those that I love, so can you". She pressed softly into his lips, chaste and quick, but leaving a lingering promise to them - "I'll help you find her if that is what you wish".

Sighing heavily he leans enough for his forehead to rest against hers. He does want to find Marian, but what he would say, is does not know. How he would ask her forgiveness, beg of it in truth, it's lost on him. It may be best if they don't find her, he can bury this pill of guilt somewhere deep, lock it away tight and focus on his life now, with his family and Regina; who has yet to cease carding her soft hands through his hair, scratching lightly in the way that is settling his knotted heart.

Their moment is interrupted by the sharp bang of the apartment door opening, a happy bubble laugh of Snow White, followed by jubilance as apparently Hook and Emma strolled in, hand in hand, beaming, back together.

So much to taking care of Robin's anguish, she groans, kissing his cheek, once, twice, three times till she see's a slight puckering of his dimples behind a crooked smile.

"Think about it, okay?"

He nods and lets her pull him back downstairs.

* * *

 

A few hours passed as Hook told his story, the plan that Hades has, the need for them all to leave as soon as possible. They needed to find Rumple and fast, time was not on their side.

Deciding to split up and taking different areas of the town, hoping to locate the Dark One before Hades found them, the loft is suddenly bare, with partners darting off in a flurry of directions.

They walked in silence, fingers linked lightly, a gentle swing in their arms, bringing a strange youthfulness between them, but Regina can see it in Robin's eyes, the defeat behind his strength. The new race to leave the underworld has taken away their opportunity to look for Marian. She know its, and sadly so does Robin. But he put on a brave face, silently condemning himself to this guilt as they searched.

"Robin?"

Freezing at the voice behind them, his heart skips a beat as his eyes squeeze shut. A tremor in his palm that holds onto Regina's like a vice as his name is called out once more. Regina does turn first, breathing out relief quietly, "turn around" - he doesn't, can't, just shakes his head and grips her hand tighter.

"It's okay" She whispers, guiding him to move as his head hangs low though he is not willing to look up, not quite yet.

He hears the footsteps draw near as she calls out to him again, softer this time "Robin…It's me!" - he can hear the tears in her voice as she grips his shoulder, pulling him in, the softness in her hands cupping his face. She smells like … like years he's long forgotten; cotton and wild flowers.

Regina felt her fingers slip from his as he finally opened his eyes to his ex-wife who was beaming through her tears, a chuckling wet laugh parting between the reunited pair as they hold each other like life lines.

A sudden flash of memory running through her, the diner roaring into her mind, it's complete deja-vu. She knows she shouldn't feel the fear that is burning inside her again, but it is there all the same as she watches Robin and Marian embrace, his arms wrapping tightly around the brunette, tears falling from their eyes as they hug and hug and hug.

Stepping away, Regina blinks back her own tears that have brimmed on her eyelashes. This is what he was supposed to have, they fit so perfectly together, both light and loving, so contrasted from her own broken damaged puzzle piece.

Falling behind them, a swell of sadness brews as she watches Robin brush back long thick waves of hair behind Marians ears, breathing in her beautiful face. Their words are lost to her as she continues to put distance between herself and them, a mumbling conversation that can't penetrate the buzzing her her head.

She turns, about to walk down the street, letting them have a moment to themselves. She barely makes it a few steps before a warm hand grabbed her elbow, Robin looking at her questioningly at where she was about to go. She stutters, flicking her eyes back to Marian who waits in the not so far off distance - "it's okay, you can have some time with her, I'm fine"

He smiles, pulling her back into his body "I'm not letting you walk away this time Regina". She shakes slightly as he kisses her cheek, a flush of anxiety bubbling as he locks their fingers together, securing her to him and tugs her back to where Marian awaits, shuffling equally anxiously as they approach, her eyes trained on Regina as if trying to decipher out what to say.

It ends up with a simple "hello" and a meek smile.

"Regina, this is Marian"

It sounds silly, Robin knows that, but this was a chance to fix everything that had gone wrong in the past, to start a new path, one with honesty and honour.

"Marian, this is Regina"

Marian extends out a hand "It's nice to meet you Your Majesty"

"Just Regina, please. It's nice to meet you as well Marian" she meets her in the middle, feeling the warm softness of the other woman's hand gently grasping her own.

They smile and Robin's heart swells. Their hands drop but the smiles never do. Robin took it upon himself to fill the quiet moments, telling Marian of his life, the curse that brought he and Regina together, Storybrooke and everything it entailed. She listened with a frown when he spoke of why they were in the underworld, a quest to find a friends' true love.

Regina bit down on her lower lip, her hands wringing slightly together.

"What's wrong Regina?" Robin questioned.

"Marian, if you're here, that means you have unfinished business…."

The brunette sighs, looking up at Robin with a sad longing gaze "I guess. I died and never knew if you and Roland were alright"

Regina's heart sank, in the true timeline, she had been the one to execute Marian, but thanks to Hook and Emma, that burden was now Zelena's and poor sweet Marian had been a puppet in the wicked witches malicious plan.

It was unfair to her and Regina's guilt flared like wild fire.

"I'm sorry Marian, for everything I did. I stole your chance to go home to your family". Her heart burned as her eyes cast downward in shame. If it wasn't for her being a villain, hell bent on revenge, she wouldn't have destroyed another family, this family, and no matter how hard she was trying, her past would always follow like a dark shadow.

Robin's hand squeezes hers in comfort, they had talked about this, her past, till the sun rose, he had been the one to give her the forgiveness she didn't think she deserved, but standing in front of the actual life she stole, it suddenly made no difference that he had absolved her.

"Life isn't always fair Regina, I understand that. And truth be told, I wasn't exactly a saint in the Enchanted Forest either. The day that your knights caught me, I was helping Snow White escape, I knew the dangers and I also knew that if I could get close enough to you, that maybe I could be the one to end the reign of the Evil Queen" Marian confesses with a heavy sigh, avoiding the blue eyes that lift in shock at the omission.

For years he thought she had died when he and the Merry Men had looted Maleficent's castle. They were over run with guards and he never actually saw Marian die, but his Merry Men had dragged him out of the fight and fire. They had lost 5 men that day, 5 brothers and Marian.

"You survived that day?"

"I did, the black knights took me to the Queen's Castle but I escaped one night, and ran into Snow at a cottage. They were on us in a week's time, and I helped her escape capture by letting myself be caught as a diversion"

Regina stood frozen to the spot beside an equally stunned Robin.

"It's ironic isn't it? Life. I played a part in the attempted murder of the Queen, who nearly executing me instead, and correct me if I am wrong, is the same woman who is my husband's soulmate" She chuckled awkwardly at the last few words. "Not everything is as black and white as Hero's and Villains are made out to be" she smiles at Regina who can do nothing but stare back in confused awe.

Robin echoes Marians laugh, heartily agreeing that " it seems whoever is writing our story has quite a twisted sense of humor"

"Indeed. But…." Marian stepped forward, reaching out to grab Regina's locked hands, slowly prying them into her own. "…I need to also say thank you" she smiled as brown chocolate eyes met whiskey ones.

"Thank me? For what?" Regina stumbled in uncertainty.

"Well if it wasn't for you, Robin wouldn't have found his second chance at happiness. And that's all I could wish for him and my son"

A tear falls from Regina's eyes as she smiled shyly back at Marian. This was not the conversation she had been expecting to be having.

"It wasn't exactly love at first sight, what with her majesty here being quite a pain in the ass in the first few months" Robin chuckles, bumping his shoulder into Regina's who blushes.

"Yes well, you aren't exactly a patron saint in your own right Robin Hood" Marian chided back.

He scoffed playfully "I am nothing but if not loveable"

Regina coughed through a snicker, earning a raised eyebrow from her love.

"What? I am!" He defended.

She hummed back in jest "After you get over your irritating nature and forest smell, I suppose you are somewhat likeable"

"Just Likeable?" He prodded back, his dimples flashing.

Her heart swells, knowing that while maybe they hadn't said  _those_ words to one another, they both know just how much they truly do love each other.

"How's Roland?" Marian breaks the moment unknowingly

"He's incredible" Regina answers "So full of light, truth be told I fell in love with him first. It was impossible not to, he brought back happiness for me, after I lost so much, plus his chubby dimpled face doesn't hurt"

Marian eyes fall into a flicker of longing sadness, "I wish I could have met him"

"You'd be so proud of our son" Robin reaches over to grip her hand. "he looks quite a lot like you actually, minus my charming dimples, but he is most definitely your son, stubborn attitude and all" he smirks, earning a half hearted scowl from both women.

Regina shuffles in her pocket, pulling out her phone, scanning quickly as Robin continues to relay little moments her of their son and his adventurous spirit.

"This is him" She turns the phone over to Marian, who hesitates for a moment, not understanding what the device is.

Encouraging gently, "It's a picture I took a few months ago" and the phone passes hands and Marian breathing a thick sigh as the photo glowed out.

There he was, her son, just as Regina described. He was sitting in a pile of leaves, beside Robin who was beaming at him. True to their words, he looked much like her, curly brown hair underneath a green hat, bright brown chocolate eyes squinting in happiness as thick set dimples cratered his chubby cheeks. She laughed seeing he was missing two teeth, no longer a baby, but a beautiful little boy. Wiping a few tears away as she stares at the image, a sudden feeling of peace rolls through her body.

They were good, they were loved and that's what she needed to know.

"Thank You" she cries softly, handing the phone back to Regina who was wiping away her own tears.

Robin moves over, pressing a soft kiss to Marians temple, hugging her gently as she leaned into his chest.

"I promise to never let him forget who you are" he shuffles, holding her hands to his chest. It's a simple bittersweet "Thank You" in return, before Marian turning back to Regina, reaching out again to find her hand "And thank you….for taking care of them"

Regina swallows thickly, nodding through the wetness in her eyes, unable to find the right words to say, but knowing that Marian understands anyway.

"Here, you should have this" She sniffed, waving her hand over the phone, a small frame appearing in the other woman's hand. "To take with you, wherever you go". Marian beams at the duplicate photo of her baby boy and husband, the tears fresh falling once more. Locking brown eyes to brown eyes she steps forward, pulling Regina into her arms tight, hugging the woman that maybe once had taken much away, but in the end had given her what she needed.

Regina wrapped her arms around Marian, breathing hard into the embrace, her cheeks tingling with falling tears.

"I'll keep them safe, I promise" she quietly promises into Marians ear, a sentiment only for her.

"I know you will"

* * *

 

That's when it happened, the white glow began below them, encircling Marian's feet as they parted. It glowed and grew around her torso, a warm soothing cascade swarming her heart.

"What's happening?" Robin sudden tone concerned, as he watched the light engulf Marian, who only smiled, reaching out to pat his cheek, and catching his eyes softly "I'm moving on, to a better place"

Robin leaned into her palm, lifting her other hand to his lips as he kissed her knuckles in goodbye, yet not able to actually say the words themselves. Regina watched with a newfound lightness in her heart, as the white light glimmered like the sun, gently guiding Marian to where she needed to be, her figure fading as she smiled one last time at Robin who held her hands till the very last moment, and then she was gone.

* * *

 

She waited for his tears, his pain and sorrow over losing her again, biting down on her lower lip, stealing herself to be ready to console his breaking heart. It shocks her when his hands move to cup her cheeks, tilting her face to meet his and he was smiling, brightly through unshed happy tears.

And he kisses her. Soft and yet full bodied.

She melts right into him, a hand finding its way to his chest, settling over the beating of his heart, steady and strong, the other linking around his neck gently.

"Thank You Regina"

It may not have come from an expected source, but it was forgiveness all the same and Regina felt lighter than she had in years as Robin's arms moved to her waist, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck. Now more than ever, she just wanted to get home, to start living life with her love.


	10. My Version of Hell

 

* * *

**Again the mindless stream of my thoughts after Sunday's episode and what would have happened when they all returned after the headstones were so sadly marked with 3 of their names. As always, leave me with your thoughts :)**

"It seems as though the lot of you have found a new way to screw it up, Enjoy yourselves while you still can. I'll be in my shop" Gold marched away with a huff and shake of his head. There was always something, and while his mind was a bit preoccupied with the fact that Belle was pregnant and he owed his second born to the God of the Underworld, it still annoyed him to the 'enth degree that once again the heroes were in trouble and no doubt at some point they would call upon him for help.

So they stood, side by side, staring down at the three headstones which now harbored three names, three precious names of woman these men loved more than their own lives. Charming and Snow were the first to walk away, clinging to one another. Hook and Emma followed, hands interlaced as the pirate leaned on his love for support. Regina turned, grasping Henry's hand and gave him a weak smile. She figured Robin was right behind her, his hand hadn't left her back the entire time they stood in the graveyard, but it suddenly felt cold, empty.

"Robin?" She called back, finding him still standing in front of her grave, deep set lines on his forehead as he scowled at the etching. The tension in his body was rigid like the stone a few feet ahead.

"Go ahead Henry, I'll catch up" She smiled, sending the teen along before slowly walking back the few paces to her love. He didn't even register her standing there, the call of his name on her lips, he just stared, the air suddenly to thick to breathe, to heavy to drag in, his heart thundering in his chest.

"It's going to be fine, we will figure it out" her honey warm voice whispered into him as she leaned into his shoulder, gripping his bicep before smoothing her palms down to reach his hand. Still he stood frozen, glaring forward as he swallowed thickly. How was it going to be fine? They had come down here to rescue one and now three had been condemned, and she was one of them. How is that supposed to be fine?

Regina's hand moved up his chest, tucking between the layers of his jackets as she started to rub small circles on his chest. It would do no good for him now to voice her fears, but fears they were. Seeing her name on a gravestone wasn't exactly the easiest thing, but as always she had to be the pillar of strength behind the hero's, who gave in to their hope speeches and naïve wishes that love could conquer all.

It doesn't, not always. It doesn't matter how hard you love someone, sometimes it can't be the lifeline. She knew that all to well. Love was not kind to her, it never had been, not until Henry, Roland and Robin. They were love, they gave her love. The thought of leaving them, never seeing them again that was her fear. But the tension in his shoulders and the frantic beating of his heart under her palm pushed her back into that familiar role of consoling.

She reached to cup his cheek, pulling his downturned gaze to focus on her. His eyes were sad, raging in anger but filled with complete sadness, it broke her heart, seeing the unease in the pure blue, the worry lines around his stubbled face.

"Look at me" she pressed into him leaning her forehead into touch his, breathing in the warmth of his body, her fingers curling into the nape of his neck, toying with the blonde hair endings. "We are going to figure this out" she moved the close the gap, catching his soft lips, sighing into the contact that is him. Finally, his arms freed from their statue state as they wrapped around her waist, pulling her fractionally closer as she broke the kiss. She burrowed into his chest, as he did the same, but her eyes found the tombstone, her name emblazoned on the dark granite. Exhaling heavy she pulled back, gripping his hand and tugging him behind her in silence. He followed, without words, holding onto her like his anchor.

The apartment was quiet, the seven of them surrounded the table, pushing food around their individual plates, glasses of red wine gone larger untouched. The Charmings were the first to retire, once again Hook and Emma following soon. Henry lay heavy across Regina's lap, snoring softly as she carded through his hair. Robin had left an hour prior, shutting the bedroom door in silence. She knew he was worried for them, for her.

After Henry slugged his way into bed, she took a moment, grabbing a glass of water, stealing her emotions that were threatening to bubble over the top. She sniffed hard, blinking back the tears before moving into her and Robin's room. She could tell he wasn't sleeping, an arm draped over his stomach, the other across his forehead as he breathed heavy. Changing into a black slip, she curled beside him, resting her cheek on his chest, listening to the slow beating of his heart.

"It's going to be fine" she finally broke the tense quiet.

He exhaled, huffed and shook his head slightly "How can you be so sure?"

Propping herself up on her elbow she guided his hand away from his face, his eyes glued to the ceiling. "I'm not one for hope speeches, but I have to believe that we will figure this out" she kissed his chest, resting her chin on him. "I just need you to have faith too"

"Faith in what? That Hades will suddenly have a change of heart and let you all go?" His tone a bit harsher than she was ready for. A twinge of annoyance flared as she sat up, frowning at his defiance to look her in the eyes.

"That's a bit pessimistic don't you think?"

He scoffed "It's realistic"

His words stunned her. The one man who constantly had nothing but faith and hope in her was suddenly caving before her eyes.

"He's condemned you to stay in the Underworld. We have no plan, no idea how to get out of here, we have nothing" he grumbled

Well that was true, they didn't know how to fix this new situation, and her heart clenched at the idea of being stuck in this limbo forever. Her dark side flashed without reign "You're acting as though you are the one who is going to be left behind. I'm stuck in Hell, not you"

She regretted the words as soon as they fell, but fall they did. Silence echoed in the room.

"How is this not condemning me as well Regina?" he growled, sitting up on the bed, finally looking at her with a half angered half desperate gaze.

"You get to leave, you get to go home, back to Storybrooke, back to our life, with our boys" she stuttered on the last few words, swallowing down hard the tears that were beginning to fill her lashes. "But by all means, lay here and pout while I figure this all out again"

She fell into the mattress, curling away from him as she drew the blankets up for security, a traitorous tear slipping from the corner of her eye as she burrowed her face into the pillow. Robin sighed, sinking back into the mattress, feeling the waves of unsettlement roll from both he and Regina. She was right, but she also didn't understand.

"I already lived through Hell Regina" he mumbled as his arm curled around her waist, tugging her back with a small tug of resistance, but she eventually went willingly, never one to fight him for too long.

She said nothing.

"I have been through Hell and back, and I certainly do not wish to go through it again"

"Like I said, you get to leave"

He tucked his chin into her neck, breathing in the warm vanilla rose of her hair.

"That is my version of Hell"

Regina froze, her heart aching as she curled into his arms tighter, wondering if this would be one of those last moments she got to feel him.

"Regina, I left you once, and it was the most painful weeks I've ever gone through"

"Zelena won't be there to hurt you again" She trembled, turning in his arms "she's gone Robin"

His palm slide down her back, tugging her tighter into his chest, the other weaving into the long dark chocolate silk of her hair. Such little time they had truly had to be together, days at most until something or someone tore it apart. This wasn't supposed to be their life together, always wondering when the next wave of torture would come, the next moment their souls would have to endure being split apart. He wasn't sure he could survive it again, losing her.

"That's not what I meant" he mumbled leaning to touch her forehead with his own. She frowned, uncertain as to what he could be speaking of instead.

"Losing you Regina. That is my hell"

There it was, the truth behind his tortured eyes and fractured breathing, a tear slipped to coast down his cheeks "I can't do it again."

Her lower lip shook as she wiped away his tears.

"You once told me to use your heart for the both of us, to have faith in us"

"Regina—" he sighed but was quickly cut off by her lips molding into his, a small whimper escaping her mouth.

"You are going home"

"But—"

"And I am coming with you"

Robin burned inside, a teetering ledge between breaking down and trying desperately to hold strong for her.

"Understand?" she murmured against his lips, a palm resting on his heart, the other cradling his cheek.

It took a moment, a long silent, heavy tortured moment before he nodded near imperceptibly, still not convinced, but not willing to give up on her, on them.

"Tell me you understand that we are going home together" She tilted his chin up slightly, searching his eyes that shone with unshed tears that matched her own.

"I understand" his smile sad and weak, but there all the same and that was a start.

"Good" She kissed him once more, before sliding down into his arms, wrapping their bodies snug as her eyes closed, exhaustion taking over.

He wasn't sure if it would be enough, this hope they all had. Hope, such a funny word, giving people a light at the end of a very dark and dangerous tunnel, and while they could see it, he was having a hard time hanging onto the beacon.

"I love you Regina"

His whispers seemingly falling on sleepy ears. He'd have to tell her tomorrow, when he knew she could hear him, know it was real and true. He had to say it before time ran out.

He fell into a restless sleep, moments to soon, not feeling the small staining of wetness on his chest where her face resided, silent tears that fell from her terrified heart.

"I love you too"


	11. Big or Little

**Well here it is-Outlaw Queen Spooning Prompt...hope it satisfies what you were all hoping for...**

The underworld was done, they were back home, finally, after weeks of being down where everyone wanted revenge, be it Hades, or Pan, or some poor lost soul who decided she was their business, it was over Hades made good on his promise, bringing them all back….well everyone except hook, but they would figure that out later.

Henry had made sure of the fact both his mothers would not be without happiness and love in their lives. So, fine, rescuing hook from the underworld at first, didn't quite work, but hero's be damned, they would find a way to ensure Emma's happiness.

For now though, Regina was thankful. Graciously so that, her, Henry, the Charmings, Emma and Robin had all made if out of that hell hole… a place where she concretely decided she would never return…too many ghost who wanted her dead, too many obstacles that were in her way.

The fact that Zelena had brought Hades back was enough…that was a problem to solve all on it's own, after all, how could the God of the Dead be absolved of his sins. In this moment however, it was irrelevant as she sunk into the silk grey sheets of her bed, reveling in the texture that slide along her skin.

Exhaustion was an idea long forgotten, her body so tired from dealing with their previous endeavour she couldn't even fathom moving from the bed as the pillow sank beneath her head, cradling her just so. Tomorrow would be a new day, finding a way to get Robin's daughter, and rescuing Hook, but for now, it was her bed. Her sweet comfy, soft, delicate bed that hugged her tight as she drifted off.

Roland had come home, per Robin's request, one she couldn't deny given the fact she missed the toddler more so than she cared to admit. Henry had opted to stay at Emma's, given the fact she just lost Hook, and was beyond emotional…. He was playing a doting son for his other mother, and Regina couldn't find it in her to argue, though she wanted her boy with her instead.

So it was peaceful, oddly so, eating a quick meal at home, the idea that they were just about condemned to death, not even a thought within their minds as they ate their way through a lasagna and dark chocolate cake, their precious little Roland explaining his adventures away.

Sure, she had noticed the fact Robin barely let her pass without a touch, a simple kiss on her temple, the brush of his fingers along her thigh at dinner. He told her about Rumple stealing his heart, only in the end to give it back, why he did not know, but hell, who cares in this moment when Regina was smiling brightly at him. Granted, initially she was terrified when he had told her of the encounter, had even gone as far as to stick her own hand in his chest to search for his heart, thankful in the end to find it beating solidly beneath her palm.

They hadn't spoke much about it since arriving home, too preoccupied with Roland and Henry. But now, as the little tyke drifted off to sleep, they were sat side by side on the couch, his fingers cascading through her hair as she rested on his shoulder. So many times they had been parted, not by their own choice, but by the choice of others….so many moments taken away from them, it felt surreal to just sit next to one another, breathing in sync, letting the night drag them into a soft comforting moment. Just them, no one else, no one to threaten, no one that held a grudge, no one trying to take the other away, no one attempting to kill the other…just them.

Robin leaned in a touch to breathe in Regina's apple caramel scent, the thought crossing his mind to the fact at one point he may never have had the chance again, to lock her into his memory, as if she wasn't already there, but just as assurance. His fingers glazed on her bare shoulders, creamy silk as they were, he could live in this moment forever, just her snuggled into his arms, relaxed and at ease.

"You should take him to bed"

Her voice catching him off guard in his moment of revelry, to which he begrudgingly nodded, kissing her temple before extracting himself from her arms. Even now, it chilled him, the loss of contact with her…to cold to live with, his heart aching to simply touch her once again. But his boy snored loudly, a sign he was far to gone in his dreams to wake, and a father he is, Robin dutifully carried his son to his room, three doors down the hall, from his own with the love of his life, carefully tucking him in, a sweet simple kiss on the young boys' forehead in goodbye for the night.

The house was dark, Regina obviously silencing the walls to the night, as he walked down the hallway, parting the door, only to see her already drowned beneath the covers.

Peaceful, that is how she looked.

Black hair inked out on the grey silk pillows, her back turned away from the door, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other splayed softly on her chest. For a second Robin wondered how many nights she had like this…. unnerved, without nightmares, just calm and resolutely asleep. He figured not many, he had been apart of many a nightmare before…especially in the underworld, where her dreams were all to real of people trying to take her away.

For now, though, he smiled, drinking in her sleeping form as he shed his shirt and pants, leaving himself in a black set of briefs before climbing into lifting the covers to slide in behind her. It was magnetic, his body couldn't control how he cradled her into his chest, an arm wrapping around her stomach as the other pushed beneath her pillow. It was like clock work, simply so, how Regina slid back into his chest, fingers intertwining his own on her lower stomach. She had once called this position "spooning" .. odd how it was being deemed at cutlery, but her smile ignited him as she explained the fact their bodies just fit together like that. Him behind her, she tucked in tight…. Spooning. He didn't ask for further explanation, was simply happy to be as she called it "her big spoon".

So here he was again, adjusting their bodies seamlessly so till they fit just right.

"Spooning" what a silly description he thought before drifting off into the heat of her body.

Just beyond reaching the depths of sleep, she could feel his stubble along the side of her neck, tickling gently as he pressed a soft kiss into her skin.

To each in their own, they loved this.

Robin adoring how his love would move and slip tighter against his body, the little thick sigh that parted from her as she sank deeper into the bed.

As for Regina, the feeling of his arms tightly secured around her, warm and thick, made her feel safe, a safety she never had known before. Her perfect "big spoon".

Robins face tucked into the curve of her shoulder as Regina subconsciously tugged his hand linked with her own up to her lips, resting there just in case she felt like kissing his fingers.

The perfect "little spoon" as she called it.

Nights on end with her had assured him this position would only last till she was too warm and had to eventually move away, seeking the chill of the sheets further away, but he reveled in the feeling of her body pressed against his ….

An hour or so had passed, Regina tucked into his arms, but Robin couldn't find sleep…not now, not after everything that had happened…there was one thing he needed her to know, before it was to late and time was lost for them. So he cradled her in a fraction tighter, burrowing himself into her silky hair.

"I love you"

A whispering statement passed his lips, holding more than could be described in her heart when the words hit her ears. He figured she was asleep, given the lack of response in her body, but in truth her heart was thundering. She knew she loved him, more than anyone before, and she also knew, he loved her. The way his eyes flickered with gold specks behind their ocean blue whenever he smiled at her, it was deeper than most could see.

He loved her, and she him.

Turning in his arms, her palms are met with his bare chest, a heart beat thumping steadily beneath her palm. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck her lips find his skin, kissing at the soft skin below as her arms wrap around his torso. For a minute the lay still, hearts in tune against each others skin, beating gently in the quiet of solace they have between them, finally.

"Robin…."

Her voice a touch beyond imperceptible, though hips rolled into the other, a motion to which pulls a deep exhale from Robin as his palms venture lower to pull her in tighter. He knows what that tone signifies, what she wants, and gods be damned he will give it to her, only her, for the rest of his days on this earth, it will be spent loving this woman in his arms right now.

"Robin, touch me"

His chin tucks lower, finding her lips stretched out to meet, soft and pliant, warm and intoxicating.

"Are you certain M'lady?"

He hesitates, waiting…but her hips press and writhe, her hands carding into the nape of his neck, a silent beg to bring him closer.

"Stop thinking, and just love me"

That is his end, always has been, always will be.

He pulls, she responds. He licks, she gives in. He rolls, she lets her body go.

Kiss, suck, lick…it repeats.

Taste her, coast down lower, feel her, push inside, suck hard, stomach tenses, hear a pitched moan, clench her thighs as she spikes high and falls back down.

Reverse.

Soak in his smell, trail down thick muscles, taste his skin, stroke gently, suck down deep, moan in pleasure, grind on his thigh, lick and pop in teasing, scratch against his skin, take in everything, feel him jerk, release before it's to soon.

She moves up his body, licking light paths against his skin, ending on lips that eagerly await. They grind hard against each other, bodies slick in sweat before his hand fall below, positioning himself where she needs.

It's all over then.

He strokes, pulls her hips down as she groans, falling into his chest.

This is what is meant by together.

Push and Pull, Tug and Thrust, Up and Down, Fast and Slow, nails that scratch, fingers that grip.

It's hot, sweaty, blinding, tipping her over with his thumb against her clit a second before he lets go, spilling deep inside, her inner core clenching, milking, pulling every last second of pleasure she can.

She falls against him, breathing heavy, legs like jelly as his arms wrap around her back, a hand stroking through her damp hair.

"I missed you"

She sinks lower, unrelenting in her body weight to which he gladly accepts.

They still for moments unknown, his hands rubbing up and down her bare back and she gently kisses along the stubble of his jaw.

It's warm though, stifling so….and her body finally has to release from his, begrudgingly so.

The sheets are cooler here, as she stretched out, stated and satisfied.

Robin doesn't move, his own body needing to cool down in it's own right. And before they can shift back together, sleep claims them, apart but close to feel the others warmth. It feels safe, even like this, not needing to touch, just knowing the other is there.

* * *

 

Hours pass and her eyes blink open, finding red blaring numbers glaring back at her.

4:14 am….

… _God it's to early to be_  awake she groans…

…and yet sleep evades her as she tries to find that darkness again. Restless she turns over and back again, annoyance licking through her mind.

She is tired. Beyond so. All she wants to do is sleep now.

Ghosting her eyes over the mattress, his back is turned to her, deep breaths expanding and contracting through his torso. Her heart flickers, just looking at him, even without seeing his face, she loves him. It's slow, her movement towards him. Almost as though her subconscious is dragging her mind to him…. granted she would never fight being near him anyway. Her arm curls around his chest, knees pressing into the nook of his own, her forehead rests against his shoulder blades, his hand clasps her own, moving it upward till it rests against his heart beat. Her body cradles into his, tucking him gently into her own as she kissing the bare skin of his neck.

She would never deny him holding her, having his arms wrapped around her stomach, hugging her into his own body…. but right now, in this moment, as she molds into his back…. Regina can't help but think…maybe holding him in return isn't so bad. Being the "big spoon" every now and then, is pretty soothing….The final thought crossing her mind before falling asleep as she hugs him from behind,

God, she loves him like this.


	12. Gone

**"Regina at Robin's Funeral"**

She should have known, shouldn't have been so naïve, should have used her head … but it was to late for that now…

They were in a dead lock, frozen to the spot as magic pulsed between them, firing back and forth as she desperately tried to shield him from the onslaught.

She should have known, should have said no, should have followed that gut feeling rather then leading with a distracted heart.

If that damn dagger touched them, it would be over, and the God of the Underworld was relentless in his attack, striking out, ripping through the air as she rebounded back each blow.

She should have known, should have read what he was about to do, been able to see past the delusion before it cost her.

He stepped back, turned to her sister with a sinister glare, so much for true love, and Zelena was trapped…trapped in fear that the man she thought loved her had deceived her, he never wanted her love, he wanted his revenge.

But he knew what she would do, and she should have known he would try it…but the heart leaps out without control, a will to protect, just for a simple fact she is family…and that is when she should have known.

Her cry out for him to stop, the leap she took, left him exposed behind her….and she should have known it was a trap. The second she reached her sister, the blue smoke engulfed him.

She heard a thick groan from behind, the spot where she had just for a damn second moved away…and then the world went sideways. She watched frozen to her spot as he fell to his knees, the pink swaddled blanket vanishing in his arms, leaving behind the protruding white dagger in his chest.

Did she scream? If she had, it fell on deaf ears.

He pitched forward, just as she reached him, stumbling down to break his fall on her own body instead.

There was no blood, why wasn't there blood? Surely there should be….and maybe there was, but her eyes can't see it, all they take in are his eyes, glazing over as his head lolls backward. Her hands grip onto his stubbled face, shaking him to regain consciousness as he fades. Now she can hear herself screaming, begging mercifully for him to come back to her, to please god not to leave her, please please please please.

She doesn't hear them vanish behind her, nor realizes if the baby is still in the room, it doesn't matter. The weight of him burns her arms as she cradles his body in, hot tears splashing onto his chilling skin, and he doesn't move.

Not when she wrenches the white dagger out of his chest, or summons every ounce of magic she has left to try and save him, not even when her lips press into his, the last heart breaking effort to bring him back to her.

He doesn't not move.

She should have known, should have used her head, thought of him first, not let misguided want derail who she was supposed to protect.

Falling to the floor beside where he lays like a statue, it's reflex that her body curls into his side, and he still does not move…there is no rise of breath in his chest, no beat of his heart under her palm, he is still…and there is nothing.

What was said at the funeral, she couldn't remember, didn't know who stood behind her, was unaware of the broken eyes that stared at the once stoic monarch, a Queen who now lacked any sense of emotion. There was nothing left, her eyes had gone dark and glassy, behind a wall that would never be breached again.

She knew she put an arrow on the black casket, laying across a single red rose, that she remembered…thinking how ridiculous it was, he didn't like roses…he liked sunflowers. It felt like hours as she watched him be lowered into the ground, the crowd behind her had receded as the rain began to fall.

It's cold, and wet, and disgusting, and she hates it, but she can't find the strength to leave. It's a strong arm of someone she vaguely is aware of that finally pulls her away, tugs her silent self into the obscenely quiet diner, depositing her in the booth near the back, a cup of tea simmering in front of her hands.

She knows they are staring at her, waiting to see what she will do, what she will say, waiting to see a tear fall, the wall break, the Queen crumble. If they only knew, she felt nothing inside anymore. There was no fire in her belly, no rush of air in her lungs, no steady pulse of her heart…she was empty.

Green eyes stare at her, so filled with tears, guilt, and regret they threaten to overspill, but she doesn't care about her or her feelings. It's not her fault, they followed her to the Underworld on their own accord, but, if she had just left when Mother told her to, when her matriarch begged her to leave with her son and her thief, she wouldn't be sitting here alone, in a diner, wet and freezing, without a chance of ever feeling warmth again.

They approach slowly, one by one, a passing sad glance she ignores, awkward clearing of throats, and whispered condolences, even though she barely registers their words. No one dares to touch her, not a soul is brave enough to reach out to grip the trembling hand that rests on the table.

A woman long ago who had lost love, had seeped into the darkest pits of hell, and now it was happening all over again, and they were nervous. What would the once Evil Queen do now that she was suffering through heartbreak again…

She knows they wonder about it, can feel it in the heavy hushed tones, can sense it behind their tear stained eyes. They are worried.

She should have known….once a villain always a villain…and villains don't get happy endings, what a fool she was to think she could have one, when she is one of the biggest nightmares of fairy tales.

He approaches, ready to stand and protect the woman who raised him, but she doesn't want it, doesn't feel deserving of protection, not when she couldn't protect the one now lost to her forever. In a swirl of purple smoke, she is gone, leaving the diner in dead silence.

The white door of the mansion clears into her vision, and as the door pushes open, the darkness overwhelms her. Everything is black, and cold…there is no trace of life, or light, or love in this place. She see's him everywhere, sitting on the couch, leaning against the kitchen doorway, jogging down the stairs to greet her. But he is not there, he will never be here again.

It's dead inside, the only sound coming from the clicking of her heels on the wooden floors, echoing around the hollow rooms. Her earrings are first, drop down diamonds that are tugged off, followed by the matching bracelet and gold watch, all to which are left on the banister. The heels are next, clumsily dropped along the steps behind her, abandoned and forgotten as the thick wet trench coat falls from her shoulders into a lump on the hallway floor. It was stain the wood, she knows it, but doesn't turn to pick it up as her feet travel down the emptiness towards her bedroom.

She can't look at the bed, can't for even a fraction of a second, glance over to see his pillow, or the leather bound book of his drawings that rests on the bedside table. She avoids it, stripping her body of the black dress, stockings and finally unclipping the lace bra, letting it fall to the bathroom floor along with it's matching bottom half.

The water is stifling hot when she steps in, he hated it this hot….never understood why she loved to steam up the entire place…no, he loved the chill of a lake, the freshness that invaded his skin. It's burning her, the temperature, as if to scald and melt away her body, but she can't really feel it, everything is numb.

She's yet to shed a tear, but that all changes when her eyes find the red bottle, his body wash, pine and spice infused. That breaks everything down. Tears pour from her eyes as she reaches for the soap, sponging it onto her cloth, soaking her skin with his scent. Over and over she washes herself, sobbing into the jet stream of water that smooths away the suds. How many times she drenched her skin with his wash, the number is long lost, but over and over she goes, letting the entire bathroom thicken with his smell, a dark cloud of painful aroma that burns her heart and tears apart her soul.

She goes to squeeze it out again, but nothing comes…. it's empty…. just like everything else, there is nothing left. She stares as the last bubbles swirl away down the drain…just gone. There is nothing more to cry out, her body exhausted and finally giving in. She shuts the tap off, seeing just how red her skin has become, he never liked it when she did this, always commented she would burn herself one of these days and he would have to take care of her…. not that it matters anymore, he's not here, and she will burn every cell of her body now and no one will say a thing.

Her room is freezing compared to the steam filled bathroom, but it is the sight of her, their, bed that stalls her completely. How can she sleep there ever again…knowing that he won't be there to pull her into his chest at night, or wake her up with dotted affection on her face.

It's soaked with him now, he is everywhere…is bleeding into everything around her, it's all him.

No she won't sleep in this room, not now, not ever. The floorboard creak as she makes her way to the spare bedroom, crawling into the comforter, turning to face the wall, secluding herself into the darkness. What if she never got up, just laid here till her heart stopped trying to keep her alive. She could let go, is letting go, can't find it within herself to fight back.

That's all she has ever done…. fight back. Against everyone, alone and defensive…until him. He stood beside her, fought against her, fought with her, fought for her.

It's a deep rooted pain that begins to spread, crushing her bone, sucking out the oxygen from her lungs, clenching her heart as it moves through her body. He is gone, no more pixie dust, no more fated love, no more lion tattoo.

She falls asleep, wishing to never wake up again, the last thought that flickers across her mind…is that it smells like forest, but this time it is her…and even now it is beginning to fade away.

For villains never get happy endings, even if they were never truly one in the first place.


	13. You Are My Future

 

"I just, I need a moment"

His eyes tore from hers as he walked away. She watched him go, a niggling feeling of guilt building in her heart. He was never one to just leave her like this, and it was bothering her. She told him to go, take his daughter and get out of the underworld, but he refused, insisting he stay beside her, a hero till the end. But they couldn't keep the baby here any longer, she was in danger, and after the revelation with Cora and Zelena, she had figured her sister wanted to change to, wanted to have a family again.

Yet, the look on Robin's face was eating away at her as they waited for Emma and Hook. She was trying to do what was best for him...for the baby…but it didn't leave a good feeling behind.

"I'll be right back" She mumbled out to the group as she walked away, turning the corner to find him leaning heavily against the bookcase. Her heart ached at the slump in his shoulders, the way his hand clutched to his chest. She suddenly felt awkward, standing behind him, attempting to figure out what to say.

"Are they back?" He questioned, still turned to the window?

"No" she answered quietly.

"Then why are you here?"

The question hit her like a ton of bricks. He sounded almost angry.

"I wanted to see if you were okay…" she whispered back, fiddling with the hem of her coat. He scoffed softly, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair before retorting sharply "So now you care?".

The oxygen seemed to suck out from her lungs as she clenched her hands together.

"Of course I care. Why would you say that?"

Robin turned finally, finding her eyes with a deep set scowl on his face, no longer were his eyes sparkling in their ocean blue, they were dead panned, dark and angry.

_Why the hell would he be so mad? I am trying to save his child!_

Her mind thundered in defense as he stood like a statue in front of her. The room went chillingly quiet as they stared at one another, waiting for the other to say something first. He was angry with her, his heart burning over the fact that she had given his child to the one woman who had nearly ruined his entire life, without even a simple apology. He is not a grudge holding man, and will look for the good in people, but that right was reserved for those who hadn't done what that Wicked Witch had, and for what ever reason now, Regina didn't seem to understand.

"I am trying to protect your child"

"By sending her away?"

"I told you to leave with her"

"And leave you in the process!"

"I don't need you to protect me all the time Robin! I've been fine doing so on my own my entire life!"

"I know that Regina, but the difference is that I am here, I came here for you!"

They went silent again, letting their harsh breaths cool. The room felt obscenely small and the space between them an ocean filling more by the second. Regina inhaled deep, dropping his eyes before they burned into her soul any further.

"It's not fair to say I don't care about you. You know I do" her voice hitching at the end as her hand brushed back a fallen lock of hair.

He sighed heavily, shoving his hands into his pockets "How long have we been here?"

"2 weeks?"

"And how long have I been in the forest with my daughter for?"

"4 days?"

"A week"

She swallowed hard.

"And how many times have you come to see if we were doing alright?"

She is stunned, her eyes locking onto his once, seeing the pain and sadness swirling within them.

"I…I sent David and Emma as often as I could…but I was dealing with Zelena"

"Exactly."

Robin stepped forward.

"You sent other people…when all I wanted was you Regina"

Her throat ran dry as realization set into her mind. He was right, she hadn't gone to see him after they had set him up with his daughter, not once had she gone back, to check on him, on them. Oh God, the shame that built inside her threatened to drown her completely.

"Robin…I…"

Her apology was cut short as a loud bang from the front of the Library sounded off, tugging them away from the intensity between them. Robin walked right past her, not giving her a second glance as he shook his head defeated…what an ass she has been, to a man who has done nothing but stand beside her. Tears prickled into her eyes as his footsteps faded, leaving her alone with the guilt.

The voices of the group pulled her back, as she wiped away the wetness on her eyelashes, she needed to fix this with him, and soon.

Emma's eyes told her everything she needed to know. He wasn't coming back with them, it had all been a trick, a dirty, disgusting trick to get Hades, Zelena and the baby out of the Underworld whilst they were all still trapped inside.

Combined with Emma's magic, they broke the Blind Witches spell, and then they ran. Ran before time was out, and they truly would be condemned here forever.

She felt the suction of the portal, but she also felt his palm on her back, guiding her through just in front of his own self. Regina wanted to cry as the portal faded away and Storybrook came into view, wanted to weep for the fact that even though they were on a strange distant territory, he was still rubbing her shoulders, asking if she was alright.

God she hated herself right now. Hated what a daft idiot she had been, nearly costing the love of her life, his daughter.

Emma and David ran off in search of Snow, pulling Henry with them as Regina shrugged at their departure. And then it was just them. Standing in the middle of the street in front of her office, quiet and apart.

She heard him sigh heavily beside her though she couldn't bring herself to look at him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

"We should find Roland" her voice barely registering, to which he nodded "he's probably at the camp with Little John", as he moved slowly across her and down the street, and she followed, silent and fearful.

It felt like hours as the walked side by side but not speaking and her heart was aching.

The forest came into view and the air grew cold around her as she chewed on her trembling lower lip.

"You realize she has never even apologized?"

His question pulling her out from the dark tunnel her mind walked heavily through. She frowned, staring down at the pathway beneath her black boots.

"For everything she has done…cursing us to lose our memories, stealing your heart, baby Neil…." Robin swallowed thick before continuing "or for killing Marian and then masquerading as her for months, tearing us apart…"

The last omission had the tears falling down her cheeks. He was right, not once had Zelena ever uttered the words…  _I'm sorry…_ Regina wasn't actually even sure she was sorry. She sniffed, brushing away the tears, but there were no words that could form, no condolences she hadn't already given him that would change what had happened.

"When she got pregnant, I felt like the worst person in the world. I should have been happy, ecstatic that I was to be a new father…but all I felt was torment and guilt"

"Robin…" she trembled, but he continued over top of her quiver.

"Every day since I had left you, you were all I thought of. I knew there was something wrong, with her, with me, but I couldn't figure it out. Maybe I didn't want to… I had left you, and thought that eventually maybe I wouldn't love you anymore like I do…"

Her breath hitched at his words, they hadn't said that statement to each other before, but here he was laying it all out on the line for her.

"..I thought, that with time I would fall back in love with Marian again, that I could have a family with her, and be happy….but I never was"

He stopped walking, breathing so heavily it fogged out in front of him.

"The night she got pregnant, in truth, I am not even sure how… I had gone out to a pub and could not tell you how many drinks I had. I was so desperate to try and phase you from my mind I literally attempted to drown myself in whiskey just so for a moment you weren't there"

He turned to her, eyes casted down, shaking his head in anguish as she silently cried.

"I knew I had no right to think of you when I had my wife back, or at least who I thought was my wife" he gave a rueful dismal smile before looking up, exhaling hard at the tears that were falling from her eyes.

It was on instinct his hand brushed up her cheek, wiping the wetness away as he swiped along her cheekbone. Regina leaned heavily into his palm, soaking in the warm and touch of his skin. He was right, it had been far to long since they had been together.

"Regina, you are my future" he smiled half way, dipping his head just so, to keep contact with her eyes. "You are it for me… I just wished you understood why I can't quite as easily forgive Zelena, even if she is your sister".

He pulled his hand away, but not before she could catch it.

"I'm sorry"

"Regina…"

"No wait"

He nodded, eyes finally turning back to their bright blue, slowly but surely.

"You are right. I haven't been thinking at all since we got down to the Underworld. Everything was so focused on Hook and Emma that I completely lost you in the balance, and that should never happen"

Her hands finally found the courage to move to his chest, finding the steady pulsing heart beat below. She focused on it, letting its rhythm set the pace for her apology.

"I left you, got distracted with Zelena, and forgot to think about everything. I just wanted her to change so terribly, to find love, like I have with you. I wanted her to feel this feeling, know what it feels like to have someone"

Robin smiled, stepping in a fraction closer, interlacing her fingers with his own on his chest as his other hand resumed its rightful position in her hair.

"I don't know if she can change, or if she can change Hades either…but what I do know is that…" her eyes moved up to catch his own gaze, and with everything inside her bubbling to the surface she smiled, hopeful at him "…I want you there beside me, I want our family, I want you to live in my house, I want us to get married, I want everything, you are my future too, Robin. I'm just so sorry I lost track of that"

He was full on beaming at her now, dimples and all, but she didn't smile back, still to riddled with guilt over the fact that he was forgiving her ever so quickly, even when maybe she didn't deserve to be forgiven.

Stepping back, she shook her head, wiping away her tears and righting her coat. Robin frowned at her departure, seeing the shame in her eyes as she avoided him.

"We should find Roland" she sniffed, turning to start on the pathway again.

He smirked to himself,  _not so fast Mi'lady_ … his hand clutched her elbow, spinning her around before she had a chance to protest, to tell him she wasn't worthy, didn't deserve his apology. Nope, he wasn't going to let her take another step before pouring ever ounce of his love for this ridiculously hot headed, stubborn, adorable, beautiful, woman.

His lips pressed hard into hers as his arms wrapped around her shocked frame, and she stood frozen, for just a second, before melting into his body, gliding her hand around his neck, the other over his heart beat. They kissed and kissed, till their breath ran out, being forced to pull back, but not relinquishing their grasp on the other.

Robin leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers as he drank her in. Another minor bump in the road, taken care of.

He smiled as their eyes locked together… "Think you could make lasagna tonight? I've been craving it"

Finally, she laughed, breathlessly and beaming back at him. She had definitely messed up, but as she stroked through his stubble, her heart glowed with how grateful she was for this man and the future they were heading towards.


	14. I Wished For You

_**Because I refuse to live in a world where OQ doesn't exist - enjoy!** _

She didn't understand how, truly doesn't care at the moment, and has no real desire to find out…when all that matters was that he is here, alive, heart beating, lung breathing, smiling that beautiful dimpled smile at her.

Standing in front of the fountain, she wished for peace, wished for love, wished for redemption and a happy ending. How that would happen she didn't think could be possible, but upon returning to Storybrooke (after separating herself and killing the Evil Queen that resided within) there he was. Sitting on her couch, grinning like an idiot as she stood frozen to the spot, thinking she must have gone crazy. It wasn't possible, fate could not have been so kind as to return him to her. And yet, God, there he was, blue eyes all sparkling and warm, crooked half smile hidden behind dimples, a tattooed arm extended out to her and the tears began to pool in her eyes.

_How?_

_How?_

_How is this real?_

Her feet refuse to move as he stood up, slowly closing the gap between them as her eyes widen in shock, jaw dropping and the tears falling relentlessly. If this was cruel joke, she'd rather her heart be ripped out now than suffer through it. And then his palm is cupping her chin, a thumb running along her cheek bone, just like he always did.

It smells like forest, pure, sweet, incredible, all consuming forest.

But it's just him, standing in front of her, smiling through his own shock and revelation that they are here, she is here, he is here.

Her heart is thundering, brutal and harsh against her ribcage, breath evading her scorching lungs as she stares into his eyes…and then it's to much. He can't be. She saw him die, watched his soul leave…this isn't real.

Anguished at the realization he is not truly here, Regina clenches her eyes shut, inhaling sharp, blocking out the false vision that is him, forcing down the pain that is bubbling in her veins.

And yet even still, as she tries to force this farce out of her mind, his hand is warm on her cheek, his scent clouding, and then it's his voice, low and warm, timbered and soft as he steps into her space, resting his forehead to her own.

"Regina, my love. It's alright…I'm here"

His fingers reach down to pull apart her clenched fist that rests at her hip, slowly prying the steeled digits into his own, gripping them tightly within his grasp, leading her hand up to his lips, pressing a heart wrenching kiss into her smooth palm.

"It's alright…open your eyes"

Her head shakes violently back and forth, squeezing his impossible hand back, as she leans into his still caressing hand on her cheek. It feels so real, he feels so real…but he can't be. She wants so terribly for it to be so, that he is truly here, his heart is actually beating, but she saw him go…has lived with him being gone for 2 weeks, even her heart had given up hope of getting him back.

He can feel her shaking, the trembling of her lower lip that refuses to stop between the relentless tears that fall from thick dark lashes.

As to how, well he does not know, only remembers dying and then being completely unable to leave her… being tethered to her, a soul that ghosted just behind every step she took, through the funeral where he stood just behind her, desperate to wipe away her pain, till the diner where he wished to hold her hand, and when even to his own shock, the pirate barged through the door. He could see the devastation in her eyes, had wanted nothing more than to wrap her into his arms and take her away from the torment of seeing others live  _happily ever after_  when her own had been stripped away just hours before.

But such is the fate of tethered souls, you follow, you watch, you wish but can do nothing to soothe the broken other half.

Even in the nights, he lay beside her, invisible hands brushing away the fallen locks of hair that clung her to tear stained cheeks after she finally passed out from crying. It wasn't fair, for her to have to endure this, was not fair he had to watch her heartbreak from mere centimeters away. He could do nothing, not when her voice cracked through the screams for him to return to her, not through the shaking of her shoulders as she cried in the shower… there was nothing for him to do, but watch as she broke, piece by piece.

How unfair it is to be a soulmate and be taken away.

He walked behind her in New York, rubbing her shoulders though she could not feel as they entered the old apartment where he once took up residence. Had literally guided her by the hand, though she did not know, to the book that housed his letter to her, and had kissed her temple as she read it. Read how he wished she was here, that they were together, how he loved her so.

If there was one thing he regretted, it was that he never actually spoke those words, though he felt every time she smiled at him, there was so much happening, it felt like time was stripped away before he could tell her he did love her, loved her like no one else, loved her beyond comprehension.

A letter wouldn't do much to take away the pain in her soul, he knew that… but selfishly he glowed when she tucked it into her breast pocket, rubbing her hand over her heart with a sad tearful smile, anchoring his words against her. He knew she loved him, loved him long ago, loved him still.

He had panicked when she met Gold, who baited her into bringing back the Evil Queen, had stood in utter disbelief and fear when she literally split in two, and crushed the heart of her darker self.

He was proud of her, proud that she was letting go of her haunting past.

It happened a few hours later, at the water fountain when coins were being thrown into the fountain, he felt an unbelievable tug, a sucking force pulling him away. He screamed for her, reached out to grab her hand but it was useless, and he faded away as she wiped a tear from her eyes, turning from the water escapade and walking away.

Waking up, he found himself in her mansion, sitting on her couch, a fire flickering in the background…and it felt real…not that ghost faint whispering that had been the last two weeks. The cloth on the sofa was textured, the heat from the flames burning, he could smell the apple caramel of her hair in the pillows…and then the door opened, and she was there.

"It's alright…open your eyes"

She shakes her head again, but clings to him tighter, her free hand clasping onto the scarf around his neck as she burrows into him, and he hugs her, so tight he wonders if their bones would crack. But it does not matter, not when she is here, he is here, they are here.

"Regina, love, please look at me"

"I can't" her voice choked and shaking as her arms wrap around his neck "you aren't real"

"Do I feel real Regina?" his palms run down the expanse of her back, along the smooth red silk that clings to her body as he cradles her in tight. "Do my hands feel real on you?"

She nods, soaking the collar of his shirt with her tears.

"and what of my lips, do they feel real?" he presses a row on the line of her shoulder, up into her neck, and across her jaw.

"Yyye-yesss" she shakes, unbelieving but so willing to give in.

"What of my heart Regina…can you feel it beating?" he moves her hand over his chest, letting the steady thumping pulse against her palm.

He feels so damn real, so, so alive, but it can't be true…

"Open your eyes, my love" his soft warming tone whispers into her ear.

And for a moment, she can't move, refuses to, for if this is just a fantasy, she'd rather just stand here forever, never letting it disappear…but his lips touch her own, pressing gently as he cups the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair. He kisses her, pouring in whatever he can to making her believe, and he feels it, the give on her lips that relax, the melting of her body in his arms.

She kisses him, for all it is worth, soaking in every note of his taste, cementing it to memory before it can fade…and she waits for him to fade…and he doesn't…not once, even as his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her flush to his chest where his heart beat pumps solid, not once does he fade when he kisses her back.

"You're here?" she mumbles against his lips, not quite willing to break the contact as her fingers run through the sandy short hair at the back of his neck. He is warm, pressed against her, and his heart beat furiously against her own chest, as though to prove a point he is alive.

"I'm here" he whispers back, catching her lips once more, reveling in the sweet sugar taste.

"Do you promise?"

The tremble in her voice, breaks his heart in two…her fear of hoping, when he knows hope has never been kind to her…

"I promise, open your eyes"

Sniffing back hard tears, Regina pulls a fraction back, inhaling sharply, willing her body to cooperate as his palms continue to smooth over her back, caressing along her shoulders, and running down her arms, lacing their fingers together with a gently squeeze.

_Just hope Regina...for once…just hope…_

Her mind begs for her eyes to open.

Ocean Blue.

Crystal Blue.

Bright Sparkling Blue with hints of greens and golds.

They stare right back at her, soft and warm, holding her to this moment, freezing it in time.

"You're here…" her voice cracks softly, hitching in the revelation that stands in her hands.

"I promised I would be" Robin smiles, leaning in to rest his forehead against her own, breathing her in full and whole as though he had been deprived of her for centuries.

It feels impossible still for her, to truly believe it is him, in the beating real alive flesh, but her heart aches for him, and so she lets it. Tears fall from whiskey brown eyes as she smiles, cupping his cheeks in her hands, running her thumbs along his stubble "you're actually here…".

"I am, I never truly left you"

Robin tilts to kiss the inside of her hand, running his nose along her palm, before smiling back. He wants to tell her more, wants to explain as best as he can, but the words are cut short as her lips crash into his, desperate, needy and all consuming.

He is alive, he is here and she will kiss him till she cannot breathe again. Her arms circle around his neck, carding into his hair, pulling him tighter, and he twins her action, wrapping her into his chest, tugging around her waist, cradling the back of her head into his hands, kissing her with every ounce of life he has. And by God, he is alive, because of her, alive for her.

His tongue darts out to trace the seam of her lips, a moan passing through her throat as she welcomes the action, opening her mouth for him, to taste him, to soak his passion in. He is hot, scorchingly alive as he sucks her tongue into his mouth, hands falling to cup her bottom, squeezing as she inhales greedily.

She can feel the pounding of her heart, is certain, he must feel it against his own skin, beating for them, furiously.

He breaks apart from her lips, heaving deep breaths, mimicking her own, but he dares not let her go, refuses now and forever to have this woman be parted from his arms.

"I Love You"

She stutters on the words between kissing him again and again.

"I Love You Robin"

He tries to tell her he loves her to, but she is kissing him again, smothering his lips so tight he can't do anything but hold on, guide her back slowly to the couch that he woke up on moments before.

Gently, he lowers her down, kissing her lips till the bitter end, when gravity has to pull them apart, and they separate with a pop.

Regina is breathing so hard, it feels painful, but it's impossible to not reach for him, not to touch him, not to kiss him. Her heart skips as she falls into the couch, eyes locked onto his own, legs wrapped around his waist, arms settled on his shoulders…he is smiling down at her, beaming uncontrollably, she can see the unshed tears on his blonde eyelashes.

"How are you here?" her hand moves to rest against his cheek as he lowers himself down into the V of her hips, pelvis pressing into her own, his stomach covering hers, and his chest leaning into her breasts, arms resting around her face, fingers smoothing back the chocolate tendrils that have fallen.

Sighing heavily, he settles into her warmth, unknowing what the truth is, how it happened, or how long this will last. For now, he is happy to just feel her heart beat on his skin, her breath on his face, and her skin under his hands.

"I wished for you…to come back to me" she blushes underneath him, but her eyes fill with uncertain tears, the fear he could be, this could be a farce, blooming,

"I know…I was there"

She frowns up at him, pushing away the blonde hair from his eyes, "How?"

"When I died, I never moved on…I stayed in that office, and then I followed you…I don't truly understand, but I couldn't leave you…" His thumb brushes a fallen stray tear that drops from the corner of her eye, "…so I went with you, everywhere"

"You came with me to New York?"

"I never left your side, how could I..." he grinned, leaning down to kiss the apple of her cheek, down across her jaw and back to find her lips. "…I Love You Regina"

If her heart could burst within her chest, it probably would explode into a thousand beautiful pieces that only he could hold. There isn't much point in trying to hold back her tears now, so she lets them fall freely, streaming down her cheeks as she pulls him into her once more, kissing her soulmate with every ounce of herself, thanking who ever or what ever above for finally giving her hope.

"Do you remember what I told you before the shattered curse?"

Regina smiles, nodding out softly… _"_ This is real…"

Robin finishes the words for her,

"And this is true"


	15. Shut Up Already

 

* * *

**Color Prompt: Red - Shutting the other up mid argument in an unconventional way.**

They sat around the round table – barking back and forth over plans to take down the wicked witch, and apparently Regina was on the losing end of the decision making. Annoyance flooding through her body when the thief decides to chimes in – claiming he's broken into the Dark Ones castle before, scoffing she sneers at him "Why are we even listening to him? He's a thief. Which means he's not to be trusted."

She glares heatedly at him "What are you even still doing here?"

"What I'm doing here is saving your ass" The outlaw snaps back with an arching eyebrow.

She's going to kill him – how dare he make that kind of remark to her, she is the Queen dammit, not some bar maiden vying for his attentions. Not that she wants his attentions…not in the slightest. Sure he's handsome, in a rugged dirty sort of way, and so what if his smirk makes her stomach flutter, his eyes bring a flush to her cheeks. She absolutely abhors this man, this arrogant idiot.

"The castle has traps, and deadly ones" he continues, refusing to look away as she drops her eyes from his.

"Not more deadly than my magic" She rolls her eyes

"They are if you don't see them coming" Robin harps at her, by all the Gods this woman is beyond stubborn.

"Well maybe I'm okay with taking my chances" she growls back, fighting off the urge to choke the life out of him.

"You may be, but we aren't. He's coming" Snow decides promptly and the smug grin she feels burning into her from the Outlaw makes her blood boil. Gritting her teeth, she stands up, her chair screeching back on the stone floor, "well, seeing's how my opinion apparently holds nothing, you can fetch for me when needed" she growls, gripping her dress as she storms out of the hall.

Robin watches her leave, frowning at her harsh departure. Why he is drawn to this hot headed, temper driven woman he will never understand, but its like a moth to a flame, he simply has to be close to her, and while she may roll her eyes at his presence and snap at him, she also does nothing to send him away.

It's been like this for weeks – this odd silent agreement they have. He finds her, she lets him stay, but they are not friends, they are anything but the sort. She has made it clear enough she doesn't wish for his companionship – not that he thinks he wants to give it to her. They are opposites, and yet so much the same. A hurricane fighting a tornado. She is tempered, he is stubborn. She pushes him away, he pulls back. He's caught her once or twice staring at him intently when she thinks no one else is looking, with a confused arch in her eyebrow as if trying to decide whether to roast him on the spot or kiss the living day lights out of him.

He'd be lying if he hasn't thought about the latter, the Queen is beyond beautiful, honey cream skin, dark whiskey eyes, plump ruby lips. She's caught him staring at her lips more than once, glares at him for a moment before teasing him with the darting of her tongue to wet them. She knows what she is doing to him. Baiting but never surrendering.

He doesn't realize he's been walking to the courtyard until he see's her, leaning against the railing that over looks the valley. Her head is hung low, chocolate locks draping around her velvet clad shoulders. His gaze travels her body for a moment, drinking in the curve of her backside, the slender slightness of her waist, up to the fullness of her breast.

"If you're just going to stare at me, leave" she huffs, avoiding his gaze.

Shaking his head, Robin closes the distance between them, facing her body sideways as he leans against the rail. He scans her face, seeing the pain the hides behind her anger. She is so angry he thinks, always is – but there is more to it than people know, than he knows. And for whatever god damn reason, he wants to know.

"What did I just say" Regina growls, flicking her dark gaze up to his. She hates when he does this. When he just looks at her like she is some broken puzzle he is trying to put back together. The odd concern in his blue eyes that steal her breath away.

"You're angry with me" He states

She snorts "Perceptive one, aren't you"?

"Why?"

"I can take care of myself"

"I do not doubt that"

"Then why are you still here?"

She turns to face him, eyebrows creased together as she stares up at him in uncertainty. Robin shrugs, pursing his lips as he figures out the right words to explain this unnerving feeling of needing to protect this woman.

"I don't need you to watch out for me" she interrupts his train of thought "I don't need anyone"

"Why do you do this? Block yourself off from everyone?"

"I prefer to be alone"

"I find that hard to believe"

"I don't care what you think – now leave"

She turns back to stare out into the distance, wishing this irritatingly persistent man would just take the hint and sod off, but it's Robin – and he never does what she asks, she says leave- he stays, she tells him to shut up- he speaks louder. It's impossible to win with him. She's never actually had someone stand up to her like this before.

"Thief, I won't ask you again" her voice low and dead panned.

He doesn't step away, moves forward into her space instead, his palm moving to rest on the small of her back.

"Robin"

It's a pained whisper as her eyes close, a heavy exhale parting from her ruby lips.

"I know you don't want to be angry like this all the time Regina"

"You don't know anything about me"

"I think I know you better than you think"

She scoffs, moving away from his hand, turning to walk away from him.

"Regina don't walk away"

"Why? What do you get out of this constant irritating pursuit of me?"

He doesn't say anything, just frowns at her.

"I am the Evil Queen, I don't want anyone around – least of all a thief"

"Is that truly what you think of me, that all I am is a lowlife peasant?"

She glares at him "Yes – now will you leave me alone?"

They stare at each other for a heated moment, tension rolling between them as Robin debates whether to stalk off and leave her to her stubbornness. Clenching his fists he sighs with a shake of his head.

"You need to stop this"

"Stop what? this is who I am"

"No it's not"

"God you are infuriating" she growls, storming to turn around but he grabs her arm, hauling her back to face him.

"What the hell -"

Her words are cut short by his lips, pressing hard into her, rendering her stunned and shocked. His hand cards through her hair, landing at the base of her neck, the other wrapping around the small of her waist till she is pressed directly against him. He tastes like mint and wine, heady and thick as his lips suck hers into his mouth, an involuntary whine escaping her when he finally parts with a pop. Breathing heavy, Robin leans his forehead into hers, inhaling the caramel richness of her hair.

Words fail her in the moment as she moves to put a hand on his chest, feeling the erratic heartbeat under her palm that matches her own. For a moment they just stand together, soaking in the strange new ground they were on.

Love isn't for her.

She loved Daniel and he died.

She loved Henry and now will never see him again.

Pushing back away from Robin, she blinks back the tears that form along the thick eyelashes.

"Regina – "

"Don't, just leave me alone"

She is gone in a smoke of purple before he can say anything, leaving him alone in the courtyard underneath the stars, the tingling sensation of her lips on his still flickering.

Something is between them, something strong, whether she wants to admit it or not, and by the gods be damned Robin is just as stubborn as she is. He will show her there is another way, that being alone isn't the only option, not when he is becoming more certain by the day he can't live without her around.


	16. Preferences

Robin is a simple man, has lived all his life as a simple man. Never had to deal with dials, buttons, ringing contraptions, or any of the other devices of this world that baffle him to the enth degree. It's a lick of pride that he has mastered most….well maybe not mastered, but knows enough to at least not break or completely dismantle the entire thing, a feat Regina is also adorable amused by. Yes, Robin has learned the ways of this modern world...can make toast, boil pasta, and even record his new favorite TV show, "Bear Grylls Gone Wild". However there is one piece of machinery that defies him. Utterly refuses to cooperate no matter how many times he's tried.

It has to go in different groups, whites, colors, jeans, towels, sheets….the list goes on and on and on. Cold water for this, hot water for that. Add white stuff called bleach that smells horrid, some flowery baby smelling solution that keeps their sheets soft to the touch. Far too many instructions to really remember. It was always easier in the Enchanted Forest. Take your dirties to the closest stream, use a couple rocks to rub out the stains and hang them on a tree to dry. Easy. 3 simple steps.

But he'll be damned if this blasted white apparatus get's the best of him. Man against Machine. Again.

It's just a batch of regular colored shirts. Cold water. Add the blue cleaner liquid, turn to normal cycle and close the door. He can do this. Last time, everything had come out a baby blue...thanks to him not sorting thoroughly enough and leaving a damn blue sock behind in the load of whites. Henry had buckled over laughing as he pulled out article after article of the awful hue, in near tears when Regina had come around the corner and dropped her bag with a thud on the floor and a gaping expression as Robin held up one of her favorite blouses...now….well...blue. She'd chuckled half annoyed, but kissed Robin's cheek anyway, saying it didn't matter, she has more, but dammit no. He can do the laundry. He's a man. A grown ass man, and he will wash, dry and fold to perfection today.

Regina had thrown in a quick load before she ran off to work in the morning which now sits all dry and ready for his utmost attention. But first. The wash. He can do this. One by one, he shakes out the shirts, pat's down any pocket around and turns them inside out...as per Regina's step by step instructions. No socks to ruin this one. Half a cup of the orange jug, and some of those strange purple smelly beads, that apparently insist on making everything smell like lavender fields. Okay. Normal Cycle. Got it. It's on cold water, and with a poignant finger he presses the green start button. Ha! He's done it. Easy.

Right now the dry clothes.

Absent minded he grabs a basket, loading in the clothes and jogging into the living room with a bouncing whistle. Basket on the floor beside the couch, beer cracked on the table (with a coaster underneath obviously, god forbid there is a water ring stain), his go to guilty pleasure show rumbles in the background and Robin sets to work.

A few silky blouses, no problem, they get hung up so no need to fold along seams and press buttons side to side. A couple rather enticing bra's are next, soft, lacy, silky under his thumbs, the thought of Regina's absolutely perfect breasts being held up by the wonderful contraptions (he learned a month or so ago how to undo these baby's with one hand….not that Regina was to impressed after being unhooked in the middle of Granny's diner...but hey, he can do it without being noticed and that is what matters. He likes her in lace especially, the ones where there isn't much "pushup" to them, just nice simple threaded cups that hold one of his favorite delicacies. It's slipped once or twice she likes these ones best as well, how the stunning applique teases her nipples all day, making her rather needy and begging by the time she gets home for his attention.

Yes. Lace is a good choice. But then there is silk. Oh silk. Smooth and luxurious, usually pumping his wife's breasts up delightfully for his eyes to gander upon. There's a particular dark ruby red one trimmed with black lace that he holds right now, adjusting the twisted straps. He likes this one...definitely it's a top five. Setting it down beside the others he has placed, he swigs a cold sip of beer, watching Bear Grylls attempt to make a fire, and Robin chuckles...amatuer. His hands absently find something, something thin, and lacy...it's not a bra….far to small for that….can't be a pair of her knickers, there isn't enough material there. Frowning he turns to assess whatever contraption is in his hand.

It's see through...black with a dark blue lacing in the front that ends where a tiny keyhole on the front is. Or what he assumes the front is...the black is a string. A string of black that does attach to this, front piece. Regina usually wears wider strapped bottoms, sexy as ever, cupping her phenomenal ass, but this. This if he is looking at it right would reveal her entire buttocks to him. Nothing but a tiny laced triangle that would sit at her low back, making it's way to this opening where he is certain her entrance and clit would be, into the lace tied up front.

He's salivating, an instant reaction to the thought of Regina wearing these rather unconventional and apparently secretive garment. Adjusting himself slightly, because well he is a man after all, and his wife is Regina Mills, he sets the  _panties_ aside, smirking that he is definitely going to ask for a modelling show of these at some point. It's strange though, he's a pretty avid connoisseur of Regina's undergarments. But these are new. Why she hasn't worn them for him is a conundrum, but there is always time for a later explanation. Onto the next.

He should have stopped at the first ones. Because these, or rather this, contraption he now stares bewildered at is nothing short of utterly confusing and yet gob smackingly delectable, if he can figure out which strap is the top and which is the bottom. Either way he likes it...he thinks. Black again, kinda resembles a body suit that parts from the top two lace straps all the way to the bottom revealing her chest completely open, her taut abdomen till attaching into another tiny black piece that would cover her lower half, sort of. But there are two more lace straps, around the lower middle. Standing up to figure this thingamajig, he holds it up, draps the top two straps around his neck, stretching the rest down his torso and Ah! Okay these secondary pieces would tie somewhere around her hips, where another poetic tiny ass baring string attaches into a cute little bow. Well this is definitely new, and Robin most definitely likes this.

The list goes on, every article he grabs from the basket is a treat to the eyes, his lady love must have gone on a bit of a spree without telling him.

With a bundle of new treasures neatly folded and laid out on the table, he scoops it all up, and jogs up the steps, grinning like an idiot with each step. Once inside their bedroom, he sets about opening a few drawers, a few of Regina's drawers, and there they all are. His secret magnificent fortune that is Regina's lingerie.

Thumbing over a few of the articles inside, his mind wanders to each night he's seen them revealed before him. Each just as fruitful as the next. He's a lucky man. He may be a simple man, but he knows how to appreciate quality goods when he see's them, or takes them off of his wife. Either are pleasant options.

Humming as to where to put the new riches, it crosses his mind that maybe, he should just reorder the entire drawer. What's the harm.

Finally walking through the door, she is exhausted, beyond ready for a glass of wine, and hopefully a foot rub from her oddly absent husband. Usually her nights entering the mansion are greeted with a kiss at the door, but her lips are poutingly not being affectioned. That's an issue. Shrugging off her peacoat and losing her heels in the foyer her calls remain unanswered, the den is quiet, the living room unattended save for a beer can on the table, even the kitchen is dark.

"Babe you home?"

It is near 11, so it's entirely possible she'll find him slumber with a book open, resting on his bare chest, the same page still gone unread though Robin insists he has made it passed. His new glasses hanging low on his nose. That was a surprise she never anticipated, being overly and hopelessly attracted to a man with spectacles, but she finds the enhance the blue in his eyes, eyes that she utterly adores, even if he puts up a fight about not truly needing the specks to read. She likes them. Likes him.

Cracking open their bedroom door, it's not a passed out husband she finds, but rather her entire bed covered in her lingerie. Splayed out and organized in what she thinks is first color and then style, Robin standing beside the mattress scratching the stubble on his chin as he looks on thoughtfully at the her delicates.

"What are you doing?"

He'd lost track of time, there had been so much to go through, to touch and recall, memories thundering around with each  _outfit_. So when he hears the sound of her voice, for a moment he freezes, not knowing if his "invasion" into her personals is deemed acceptable or not, even if he has seen her in most of them.

"Hey" he finally manages a smile as Regina steps into his chest with an amused smirk, eyeing up his display "how was your day?" mumbled into the crown on her chocolate hair as he hugs her into him. It was fine, boring and unamusing she tells him, but her tone is playful, questioning but light when she pulls back to meet his eyes with an arched brow. "And how was  _your_ day?"

He chuckles, nervously licking his lower lip as a hand runs through his hair, "I did the laundry" - "So I see" - "And I may have lost track of time…" - "Mmmm, distracted were we?". Robin watches as she reaches over, swiping a delicate thumb across a particular line of intimates he's set to right side of the bed, her low hum vibrating through his body as he swallows thickly. It's the new set, that black and blue lace tie up thong with a cut out, he'd found the matching bra later...royal sapphire blue, jeweled and damn right salivating.

"These were supposed to be a surprise for your birthday next week" she muses in front of him, torturously leaning over the bed, presenting her skirt clad ass plump and straight into his groin. Touching her on instinct, his fingers wrap around her hip bones, holding her close enough he's certain she can  _feel_  him.

"I've decided, you're right. Black is your color"

"Oh have you now?"

"I have. However, I've also decided I need to see you in each one, just to make sure"

Regina laughs and bumps him back enough for her to slide out from in front.

"You want a show do you?"

He does, tells her as much with a dimpled grin, sitting down on the mattress with bright blue mischievous eyes.

She pushes him with a laugh, he goes willingly, falling back amongst the stacks of silk and lace.

Robin is a simple man.

Likes the simple things in life.

A statement true to his bones as he triumphantly falls into the bed, ankles crossed, chest bare, hands laced together on his low abdomen as he watches his wife grab the blue set and ever so antagonizingly slow walk to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked just enough to tease him with a glimpse here and there.

It crosses his mind for a moment, what his favourite  _simple_ thing about this world is.

He can't help but grin as the bathroom door opens.

"Do you like it?" She questions closing the distance whilst thumbing the black straps along her hips.

"Stunning"

Regina chuckles a small almost shy thing and there it is. The most perfect beautiful part of his world, simple and just for him. For a second Robin wonders if she thinks he was commenting on the lingerie…


	17. I Remember You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in 3x22, before the Office Scene - Prompted from Lana's comment that Robin helped her put her heart back in "behind closed doors" - Massive Thanks to Brooke for making this not read like a pile of poop. I hope you like it, feel free to drop me a prompt, I'll add it to my list :)

 

"You're sure you want to be here for this?"

"You've asked me that already, Regina. My answer hasn't changed."

"I just...It's not always the best feeling…"

"Having your heart back?"

"Dealing with the aftermath."

She's sitting across from him, eyeing her heart suspiciously as it beats in his palm, treacherous, emotional thing it is. It's ugly and dark, swirling with black that eats up the red glow beneath. Not having it has been oddly, well, nice. It sits heavy in her chest most days, a dark angry weight. But in its absence, as terrifying as it may have been to leave it out of her eyesight, she could breathe, fully without anguish, felt a fraction lighter than she'd been used to.

She doesn't want it back in, not really anyway. Three days she's been without it, and the fear of having it in her deranged sisters possession gave way to this new strange glow inside. Granted some of that  _glow_ could be attributed to a certain blue eyed man sitting across from her right now. She feels that glow when he is around, warm and gentle. She'd like to keep this feeling, at least for a little while longer before that wretched thing has to be put back in it's rightful place.

It's never pleasant, the few times it has happened. She tried to explain it to Robin earlier, that she can  _feel_ , just not fully. Even that doesn't really seem to cover what she knows is coming. The onslaught of emotions that flood without reign, a few long tense minutes that swirl pain, anger, fear, loneliness and heartbreak all into one distasteful concoction she's forced to swallow.

Her heart is dark, and brings nothing but darkness with it.

Regardless of what happened earlier, she's still not totally convinced she has the capability of light magic, especially not with that haggard beaten up muscle back inside. Henry's pleading bright eyes and supportive words be damned, she had been entirely certain nothing would happen, she was dark magic through and through, she can't change who she is on a dime.

And yet it happened, even as nerves and anxiety licked through her veins, the moment Robin had grabbed her heart, she had felt it pulse, jump, and burn with electricity (much like it is doing now as his thumb swipes over the meaty flesh). It had felt different, hot and consuming, blindly overwhelming, and then there it was, light magic.

A one time thing, she's certain, chalking it up to the  _soulmate thing,_

"Should we be doing this outside where your home isn't in danger of being burnt to a crisp then?"

How easily he can smile about this, attempt to soothe her turbulent soul, and maybe that's the point of a soulmate. One is black while the other is white, hard and soft, balancing the other out in their flaws. Not that Robin has flaws, well maybe he does, but they are pint sized compared to her ocean of issues.

Warily she flicks her gaze up to his, her heart jumping when she catches his eyes, blue as the sky, rimmed in a dark sapphire, flecks of green and gold embedded in them, and of course he doesn't miss the arrhythmia, blinks down at the organ for a second before returning back to her and smiling, reading into her vulnerability in this moment, exposing the already exposed in his hands.

"It's the same you know."

She frowns, not quite following.

"If you could feel mine right now," he concedes, biting down on his lower lip thoughtfully as he strokes up and down her heart, "it skips a beat and burns like wildfire every time I look at you."

She blushes, bowing down slightly in a new shy smile she's developed only around him. A curtain of chocolate hair falling to hide her eyes, but he is holding her heart, and it is a traitor, giving away her every feeling with a furious thumping. Like a bloody drum set beating away with an orchestra of trumpets and neon signs surely blazing words that she dare not voice right now, even if she may feel them.

Glaring at the muscle, she can do nothing but let out a breathless, unamused chuckle, rolling her eyes in embarrassment that she is so overtly on display for him right now.

He can see it, the slight fear in her eyes even though they avoid him, trepidatious and apprehensive, as though she is waiting for something horrid to happen. A sickening thought occurs to him that she is waiting for  _him_  to do something horrid. He wonders how many have held her heart like this, ventures a guess it is not many and that those who have did not treat it with gentility. He will not be such a person. Her past is no secret, yet neither is his if she wishes to know. Both tainted by darkness they wish to forget, he himself has just been granted that forgiveness earlier on.

When the wave of memories of the missing year hit, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, this strange clouded fog of something just out of reach finally clear cut, and it only had one thing to show. Her. The Queen who has stolen his heart. They had quite an interesting year, thief and monarch. He saw it the moment he caught her eyes in the cannery with Henry, that spark of knowing just how scared they both had been that night the curse came. How she had burst into his room in a cloud of purple all her own, kissing him till his knees weakened before curling up into his bed, holding his son who had claimed a space in her heart all on his own, their hands laced together, knowing that come tomorrow, things would be so very very different.

Yet here they are. Again. Just two people treading through deep waters- together.

"I remembered you," Robin smiles, though Regina's brows knit together in confusion. "During these past few weeks. I remembered you from the missing year."

It's impossible. He couldn't have. That was the point of her half sister's addition to the curse. It's why she has spent the past few weeks as a "friend" of her son's biological mother, has fought off a thousand and one accusations she is the reason for the return to Storybrooke, and even found herself flirting with a handsome outlaw without second thought.

But he looks so certain, staring down into the red glow, dimples creasing in slowly as he affectionately continues to run the pad of his thumb up and down her heart.

"When I saw you at the farmhouse…"

"You mean when you shot an arrow at me."

He chuckles, bumping her thigh with his knee, "Only on accident I assure you." She hums, smirking back an,  _I bet,_ that Robin decides to let slide.

"We had been here for a few weeks, and I kept having these fogs, these distant, clouded images, smells, sounds and feelings." He turns to reach out for her hand which she gives willingly, lacing their fingers together. "I just, I saw you that first day and I knew I had seen your eyes before," he catches her gaze, drowning in the whiskey shade, "that I had known you in some capacity."

"I was the Evil Queen...you must have remembered me from then no?"

He shakes his head, scowling a touch, "Not exactly," he shifts slightly to face her more fully, scratching the stubble on his beard that Regina wishes she was touching instead. She loves the feeling of it, scratchy under her nails, or brushing along her neck.

"I don't know how to explain it really. I think my heart remembered you before my mind could." He chews on his lip, exhaling before finding her gaze. "When I looked into your eyes that first time here, I just knew I had fallen in love with them before." It's almost shy, a whispered omission on his part. Robin, who is usually all about coating her with over the top affectionate words, suddenly seems nervous.

"They are just brown, Robin—" She blinks slightly dumbfounded, the last person that had commented on the beauty of her eyes was Daniel, but that was in another lifetime. Mother always wished she had inherited her green eyes, rather than the  _dull, boring_  hue of her father's.

"You're wrong," his timbered voice smoothes over her, "They are the color of walnut trees from Sherwood Forest." He smiles, stroking along her cheekbone, "And when you are sad or lost in thought, they gloss over with dark hickory hues. There are these amber gold flecks when you start talking about things you love, the people you love." She wonders for a minute if they are there right now. "You have the most stunning eyes I've ever seen."

She is blushing, knows by the hot red creeping flush moving into her cheeks, and she'd be embarrassed if it was anyone but him. But it is him. Just Robin. And maybe it's okay to let him see.

Squeezing her palm, he continues trying to convince her of his memories; "I would walk around the forest here and feel myself holding your hand, the way your fingers fit and hook perfectly with mine. I like that…," Robin smiles, "how small your hands feel in mine."

Well surely, if her heart (presently pumping away in his hand at a crescendoing pace) hasn't given her away, the way she is uncontrollably beaming at him must. She likes that too, how large his hands are compared to hers, how they encase hers completely, rugged and soft, calloused and smooth.

"On days here when Roland and I would walk to the park and I'd hold his hand, it always felt like something was linked into my other one, yet nothing was there. I could feel it though, feel you; the slenderness of your fingers, your rings, how you'd scratch the back of my palm with your nails." He arches an eyebrow down with a smirk, because she is doing it now, not even realizing it.

Moving to shift closer, he reaches to tuck a curl behind her ear, drinking in the silky texture and thick chocolate color. "I've sat against trees here watching the sunrise, and I swear I could smell the rose caramel of your hair, rich and sweet in the air." He flicks the strand between his fingers. It's much shorter here, less extravagant, and while he would freely admit he loved her longer, tumbling curls, there is something about this cropped framing around her face. "It lingered in my clothing, found it's way into my pillow, every breath I've taken here; it's laced into the air."

"Your voice," he muses softly, "It followed me everywhere. Muffled and irritatingly distant, but the second you spoke to me here, it clicked..

"Must have been strange hearing the Evil Queen in your head."

It's a low blow on her part, to herself, using  _that_  name. And while she would love to hear nothing but how much he apparently loved all these things about her, and possibly god favour her fortune he still does, it's easier to make a wall, build up some sort of armour before she falls too far.

A notion she knows is already past due given how hard her heart is stampeding in his hands. He knows it too, that she defends herself with sharp self-inflicting barbs, understands where to push and where to pull back, what will ease the pained scowl on her face and bring back the lightness in her eyes. He simply knows her better than she thinks.

"I suppose, but you have a lovely voice all the same, especially when it calls out my name. Nothing is quite as magnificent sounding as that."

"Your name?"

"You saying my name?"

_Oh. There goes her heart again, banging around without a care in the world._

Robin chuckles at the change in rhythmic beating, smirking at her with that damn hint of smugness behind his dimples.

"Shut up" she huffs, adding a low, husky, "Robin," just for good measure.

And he doesn't disappoint, closing his eyes with an exhale that seems to start at the tip of his toes, a whispered "Beautiful" dropping out behind his grin.

She smiles and shushes him with a roll of her eyes, and Robin glows because she is smiling, and he remembers her smile, tells her as much when his hand reaches to cup her cheek and turn her towards him. That one smile he had dreamt about for weeks, every time he'd close his eyes, and he'd wondered desperately who was the owner of such a magnificent thing. The moment she had smiled at him in the farmhouse, and in Granny's hallway between stolen kisses, and he just knew, muddled and confused as his mind may have been, that there is no one else who can stop his heart with a smile except for her. "It's one of my most cherished things"

"What else did you remember?" She curls into him, resting an elbow on the back of the couch, carding her fingers through her hair as she waits for him. She's waited for him forever it seems.

Robin muses silently for a moment, honing in on her red lips, parted slightly, wet from her tongue that had just passed by. "These,"

"My lips?"

"Mhmm." He runs his thumb along her lower lip, "How they feel pressed against mine, so full, soft and—" She beats him to the last word with said lips claiming his own, a flare pulsing through her at his low groan. They have kissed before, before regaining their memories, knowing now with them returned, they have kissed too many times to keep count of, and yet, it never faults, never fails, that it feels giddy,bubbles up in her stomach, burning from the inside out.

"—perfect." Robin's cut off word murmurs out as he smiles into her mouth, pulling her gently back in for a second, third, and fourth, his own heart hammering, matching the rapid pulsing pace of hers in his palm. "Even this beauty mark," he moves to kiss the scar on her lip, softly dots an affection to the marking as Regina smiles, "I could feel the indent of it when you kissed me."

She's always had a battle against this particular scar, how it is glaringly obvious on her face, that no amount of lipstick could hid the marking her mother gave her, a reminder of a punishment for not doing as she'd asked. "And I remember being entranced by it, the loveliness of it," he confesses, thumbing the small crevasse adoringly.

"What else?"

Her fingers card through his hair, her hips moving over to straddle his body against the couch, blocking him into the cushions as he grins, bouncing a playful eyebrow up at her with a squeeze on her thighs. "Definitely this." He rubs up and down her legs, breathing a hitch heavier.

"What about this?" She husks, scratching at his jawline with one hand, combing through his hair with the other. She does remember  _this._ How he touched her, stroked along her body and kissed every inch; how he felt, thick and hard, stretching her in places till stars popped behind her eyes. But mostly she remembers how he whispered into her skin how much he adored her, cherished her, and eventually loved her.

"Yes," he swallows before focusing on the memories, "the softness of your skin." Robin grazes his fingertips along her hips, up her back, tugging the silk blouse up enough to have the skin on her stomach peek out. "You feel like cotton and cream…" he leans in to kiss a row along her collarbone, "...and taste like honey."

She chuckles at that, humming against the feeling of his tongue licking at her pulse point between kisses. "Mmmm... definitely your laugh, a melody that played in my ears during the silence of my nights."

"However," his palms ghost up her back, shuffling her a touch closer so he can kiss her sweetly "do you know what I remember most?" She shakes her head, keeping her eyes locked onto his.

"This."

He holds her heart up between them, resting it above where his own lays, and unbeknownst to Regina, it matches the oscillating beating of her heart.

"You, my love, have the most beautiful, resilient heart." He smiles, looking down at the proof in his hand. "And I think, it's time to return it to its equally stunning owner."

A pause passes between them as Regina stills her breath, knowing what is about to happen, what is about to occur and the pain that follows this moment. She is scared, always is. But he is here, and regardless of her fear, he feels strong, is strong. Maybe this could be one of those times she could be  _less_  strong, have him be her rock. He's done it before, in their missing year. More times that she would care to admit she needed him like this.

Curling her fingers around both his and her heart, she nods, "Wait till it glows white around the edge, that's where the right spot is, and then you just push." Releasing his hand, she anchors herself on his shoulders, bowing down enough to lean her forehead against his.

"Hey, look at me."

Her anxiety is rolling off her in waves, body so utterly tense in his lap, and that is just not okay with him.

"Regina."

When she finds a shred of bravery she looks him right in the eyes, drowns in the security they hold and hunkers down a touch lower so they are stomach to stomach, her arm curling around his shoulders and carding through his hair. He leans in, catches her lips softly, and then pushes when he see's her eyes close once more.

It's….different. The pain flickers for a moment, anguish for a fractional second, but there is none of the fear, not a trace of that usual decrepitating loneliness.

"You alright?"

She nods, smiles behind hidden tears, because for the first time, she actually feels it. That everything is alright, everything is okay.

Fin.


	18. Scissors

It's jagged, rough and spliced; sheared in the wrong spots, sharp ugly edges and hacked framing.

What does she care though? It needed to be done, the memory of his fingers running through are too...there's too much pain still. There will always be too much pain. A low tortured burning in a place she can't reach, can't tear out, and it consumes her entirely. Aching and agonizing; a wound that can't clot, ensuring she will bleed out eventually.

When that will happen, she doesn't know. There is nothing visible on her body to suggest it's battered torn apart state, sore, tender and unforgivingly resentful.

She hides it all away from the prying eyes that wonder about her state of mind. Every morning, they watch, wait to see with tightness in their chests and fear in their eyes, who is going to walk out of the mansion that day.

The Mayor? Regina? The Evil Queen?

Someone entirely different?

She wonders too. What the mornings will bring, not that she sleeps anyway, there are demons that creep into her head at night, and she has no strength to withstand their onslaught.

It was a poorly timed comment, that lead her to this place, sitting on the bathroom floor, wincing at the small pricks of blood on her fingers where she became sloppy and misjudged angles. They trickle down the pads, curl around knuckles and stain her skin in dark red ruby patterns. If she squeezes just enough, the healing skin breaks apart again, letting another stream escape. Could she squeeze it all out? Her blood? Slow and deliberately. Would anyone come looking for her? Care too?

He would have.

But he is not here. Not anymore.

Her shoulders crumble, a break in the impenetrable wall, her hands catching the weight of her head, threading through her hair. It hurts to breath. Stabbing between ribs, crushing her from the inside out. There are no more tears to cry, they've all been left in his pillow. But there is pain. Pain that sends bile into her throat, numbs her legs and freezes her skin even though she sweats.

It's a disease. To feel  _this_ way. Riddled with an incurable malady. It will take over, destroy everything with ease, intentionally, deliberately, and unhurried.

It falls irritatingly into her eyes, though she tries to tuck it behind her ears, it doesn't obey, simply slips out and hangs blatantly for her to glare at. She's going to rip it off, rip it all out, beauty be damned.

Standing on wobbly knees, the scissors rest on the countertop still, covered in long chocolate curls that she brushes away angrily. Something cracks behind her as she slams her fists into the granite top with a wretched scream, a mirror it sounds like, crashing to the ground thanks to her sporadic outbursts of uncontrolled magic. Everything is falling out of control.

But  _this,_ this she can control. She can have some semblance of jurisdiction, of authority. Meaningless as it may be. Redundant in the grand scheme. But it's something to cling too.

It's all coming off, and she'll start with this aggravating strip right in front, the metal of the scissors hissing as they are wrenched apart.

"Regina?"

"Leave me alone Snow"

Her palm burns into Regina's back, an iron rod branding her vulnerability. It makes her feel weak. But she is not weak. She is in pain and just wants it to go away. Everything and everyone just needs to go away. She waits for the badgering words about hope, and family and love.

They don't come much to her bitter surprise.

Between the trembling of her hands, and the fractured breathing that helplessly rattles in and out, the scissors are gone, laid down in the far corner of the vanity and replaced by a soft grip. She doesn't need consoling or Snow's pity, she just wants this agony leave.

"Tell me"

It takes a dozen silent tense minutes before she can figure out how to answer, how to explain why  _this_ , is causing her the most tormented misery.

"He liked it long"

..

It's feeble, and not even close in full description. He liked how it curled around her shoulders in the morning and the braided, laced elaborate styles he could undo behind closed doors. She remembers the soft musing affections he made into the waves when he thought she was asleep. The feeling of his nose burying behind her ear, the smooth sigh when he would breathe her in. His telltale sign before he would kiss her, the way his fingers played with the ends of a curl the moments before, and then he'd thread through it, holding her tight to his lips.

It's all there, locked away in her mind.

..

"I think, he just loved you"


	19. Rituals

He's watching her, like he usually does, leaning casually against the bathroom vanity as she "preps" herself for bed, a ritual he has come to utterly adore.

It It starts with her hair, long and luxurious as she untangles the curls, pulling it back into a low messy braid. If Robin had it his way, her hair would be free to flow wild, draping around her shoulders, loose so he can run his fingers through the chocolate silk. He loves her hair. Is absolutely thrilled that she is agreed to grow it out, not that he didn't appreciate the shorter look. But there is nothing in this world that compares to the feeling of the longer length brushing against his chest when she lays over him, or the captivating way it spills from the crown of her head, a tumbling waterfall he can do nothing but be bewitched by.

It's tied back now, exposing the length of her neck, the beauty of her skin, honey hued and dotted with freckles he's counted time and time again. Twenty-six of them adorn her body to be exact. His favorite three make a perfect small triangle underneath her left breast. A private constellation only for his eyes to see. However a bet for top spot could be challenged by the one at her corner of her lower lip, it's the first spot he kisses in the morning, and the last one at night. Or maybe the four that curve along her shoulder blade, he definitely likes those ones. He just likes her.

The buzz of her toothbrush trails his eyes lower, down to her delicious mouth. He prefers nothing more than to be attached to it at any given point of the day, every minute of the day if she'd let him. On cue in his timed countdown, she sits on the edge of the tub, scrubbing away mindlessly as he does the same. His mind wanders to memories of her smile, a perfect row of white teeth beaming out behind ruby stained lips. Never once has that smile failed in making his heart stutter. Even as the years have gone on, and he's seen it a thousand and one blissful times, for a fraction of a second he melts for it, always.

He finishes first, splashes some cool water on his face, and pretends to find something else to occupy his time with as she follows him to the sink. It's some sort of balm that goes next, a creamy pink substance that squeezes from her blue bottle and gets patted just below her eyes and around her forehead. He'd asked her once what it was for, she made some ridiculous comment about keeping wrinkles far away. That is something he will never understand. Her skin is flawless to him, supple and smooth under his touch. So what if there are a few lines around her eyes that she pulls back with a frown, or a crease here and there. It's their life quietly painted into her face. The ones that came when Roland fractured his arm, or the first idiot boy that broke their daughter's heart, to the laugh lines from moments forever engraved into his memory. It's their story, each and every one.

He listens to her hum, as she usually does by this point, whilst smearing more product into her skin, ones that "brighten" or "tighten", others that enrich with vitamins and things Robin still can't pronounce. She doesn't need any of it. The beauty of his wife is not something ointments and concoctions create. It's simply her. The defined shape of almond eyes, straight bridged nose, sculpted cheekbones and jawline, pouty perfect lips. It's just her. Stunning, glorious her.

His favorite part of her routine is starting, and he does his best to silently watch her through the mirror, rustling his own hair in allusion that he isn't just standing here in their bathroom watching her preen. The dark blue silk robe untie, drapes down to her shoulders, laying bare the pure loveliness of her chest, not quite pulled apart enough for her breasts to be fully on display, but the curve of each swell deliciously there. It smells of rich velvets, and fresh rain. Something alluding to spiced vanilla, yet subtle lavender. If there is one thing he could wish to always have (besides her), it would be this smell, soaked into his skin, melted within his brain. The cream glides around her skin, slowly vanishing along the length of her neck, on her collarbones, between her breast and over the swells. Its mesmerizing, the patterns she draws, curling into her shoulders, to the back of her jaw, down and around on her back.

"You know, you could help me rather than just stare".

Her eyes meet his in the mirror, playfully accusing his dumbfounded look, caught red handed, drooling over her. It's not his fault she's his weakness, can render him speechless with a mere arch in her brow. He flushes, biting down on his lower lip with a shy smile, "Was I that obvious?".

"You've watched me do this nearly every night, for two years now"

Well that is true, and he fails to see the problem as her bottle of cream is pressed into his palm. She turns, dropping her robe, sinfully letting his gaze rake and burn into her naked skin as she sits on the edge of the vanity, hoisting her hips up enough to settle her bare backside on the cool granite. He wonders if it will ever fade. The hot coil that pulses low in his body at the sight of hers. If anything it flourishes and burn more. She lifts, and he catches her ankle, letting her foot rest square in the middle of his chest, dainty dark red painted toes tapping lightly against him.

He loves her ritual, loves the way she hums and haws over every invisible flaw she finds, that he kisses away. Will forever be a spectator if she allows. But this, this is amazing, getting to massage the muscles in her thighs, curl his thumbs into the arch of her feet, dance teasingly light around the crease of her hips, and if by the grace of god, she will let him continue to serve her, well he may have just found his new favorite part of her nightly routine….of course until they get to bed, nothing will ever rival that.


	20. It's all about perspective.

It's gloomy, dark seedy gray skies, blustering winds, heavy cold down pouring rain, an absolutely atrocious, god awful, let's put it off for another new years kind of day. What's the real need anyway? He knows why. Doesn't like it one bit, but had begrudgingly agreed. Maybe if it hurricanes today won't have to happen.

"Papa! Come On!"

He grunts at the terribleness that is today, balks at the quiet voice that laughs at him from within, but grabs his sweater and walks down the steps to where nothing but agony and longing await. Did he mention it's an awful day?

.

..

…

..

.

It couldn't possibly be nicer outside. Brilliant shining warm sun, bright cloudless blue skies, tree's flush in greens, flowers in full bloom. They don't get many perfect days like this in Storybrooke, being enclosed in forest and mountains usually brings more rainy, dewy days, but not today. Today is spectacular and Regina is utterly grateful for it. It will make things easier, though she is fairly certain whom it is she needs to worry about is going to be the complete opposite of normal. At least the sun is shining.

"Gina! I'm done!"

She turns, grinning at the happy bouncing babble at her kitchen island, little legs swinging above the footrest, blue spiderman shirt graciously untouched by syrup, a milk moustache lining the best toothy smile in the whole world.

"Okay, handsome," she wipes his chubby face with a cloth, clearing away the small chocolate chip stains from the pancakes earlier, "Go get your dad."

Roland bounds off the stool, socked feet skidding on the wooden floor as he rounds the corner, hollerin' up the stairs.

"Papa! Come On!"

It's going to be the best day.

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It's loud. There are too many people, there is too much chaos and not enough time to spend with his boy before this jail house takes him away. Regina is here, which is good he supposes. The warmth of her hand giving him something to cling to as Roland's let's go.

It's too soon for this.

He's not ready; Robin...Robin isn't ready. It seems like Roland is completely the opposite.

Someone bumps him for the thousandth time, and he is about ready to run after his boy, scoop him up and haul ass into the forest. It's just five hours is a long time to be separated from his little lad. There is so much that could go wrong in five hours. It's not safe. Who is going to protect his boy if Robin isn't there? This is a bad idea. They should just go. Maybe next year (or in ten.)

"Papa! Papa! Come here!"

His scowl resides under the false smile he quickly throws on, as he threads through the claustrophobic amount of frowning, angry people, stark white walls that seem to slowly enclose, someone is screaming in the background, the sound of harsh clanging metal bangs behind him, the slamming of doors echo all around. This is no place for a child. It's a hell hole.

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She loves this day. How everything just seems to burst into life the minute they turn the corner. All it is, is happiness. Eruptions of bubbly laughter, ecstatic squeals from the playground, smiles upon smiles...it's contagious in fact. She hasn't stopped grinning since this morning, when a little body came crashing into their bed far too early, bursting with excitement before scrambling back out the door and down the steps ready for the adventure ahead.

It seems like years since she brought Henry here for the first time, letting her little prince go into none other than the care of people she once detested, and whether the Mayor suddenly was walking down the hallways more often than ever, well no one ever commented on it.

"Papa! Papa! Come here!"

God she loves how happy he is. At least one of the Locksley boys has found something to smile about today. She is gently tugged by Robin's hand, walking easy through the brightly painted hallways, a few calls from teachers beckoning kids into their classrooms, a locker clicking shut here and there, up to where Roland is vibrating where he stands, pointing up at something she can't quite see yet, but the way he beams, well it has her own smile stretching.

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"Look!"

_At what? A torture device in the corner? Chains and Gullets strung about?_

Robin eyes the space around him angrily, but keeps the display locked invisibly down as he kneels to his son's level, waiting for his brown button eyed little mate to beg him to take him away from this place. It doesn't happen. Instead of crying pleas, all Robin gets it a toothy giggle and a small finger pointing up to a bright green piece of paper, yellow scroll etching his son's name.  _Why is that necessary? So they know where each child is to kidnap quicker?_  Robin nods, glaring at the piece of paper and tiny silver hook that holds a red and black striped bag, loaded with things he never needed as a boy growing up in the Enchanted Forest.  _Pencils, Paper, Crayons…._ all completely unnecessary and totally barbaric.

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She see's it the second he stands up again, rigid like stone, righting his shirt with a quiet huff, his arms crossing over his chest as Roland digs around in his new bag for his pencil case. Her heart nearly melts at the sight of absolute indignation and petulance that exudes from her thief, all scowled crested features, tight tense jaw, a small bead of sweat dancing along his brow line. Should anyone else look, it would be completely plausible to conclude that Robin was about to blow off like a volcano...he looked like it...but it's his eyes that give him away. Watery, sky blue swarmed in desperation, frantic defeat, and overwhelming longing.

It takes everything she has not to poke at him, give a tiny shot under the belt at the way he is acting, as though he is sending his boy off to war or something. It's just kindergarten. Roland will be coloring pictures for their fridge, not crawling through bomb riddled trenches. God she loves this man. The unphasable Robin Hood, complete shook by his son's first day of school. Even his hand is flushed with sweat as she squeezes it gently, toying with the gold band on his finger, which normally will get her a cheeky dimpled grin, but nope, not today apparently. His eyes are dead set on Roland who has managed to gather up his few necessities. Everything is green, it had to be as per the young boys' demand. Green like the trees. And thank the high gods above she can just poof a green binder, green pencils, a green pencil case, just green everything, with a wave of her hand. Because, " _Papa likes green just like me!"_ The reasoning of a five year old is nothing to be reckoned with.

"Roland Locksley?"

Robin tenses, Regina's smile fades, because suddenly there are big welled up tears in little brown eyes.

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See! He knew it! This horror house is already terrorizing his boy. Like Hell Robin is just going to walk away from him now. Roland would be traumatized. Being slammed into a cell behind him, locked and key thrown away. Who knows what they do with these kids for five bloody hours. He can teach him everything his son needs to now in the safety and comfort of their own home, preferably with one of Regina's magical spell things that keeps people out.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Her singsong voice glows out, and it oddly soothes Robin too...marginally, but his heart beats a fraction more at ease as she settles down on her knees, wiping away the fat droplets curling on Roland's cheeks. His boy sniffles, long and hard, and Robin is going to break if this keeps up.

A clearing of Regina's throat halts his planning to escape, and wide eyes flick between himself and Roland as she tugs him down,  _hard_. His knees hissing at the impact on frozen cold stone floors. He focuses on the untied shoelace of tiny sneakers, another death trap in this world, opting to reach out and string them together as slowly as he can, hoping that if enough minutes tick away they will be allowed to leave, all of them, together.

"Papa?"

This is it! Finally! Roland will ask to go home. Good. It's about time. Surely they are inhaling disease and infection every second spent lingering inside these stone walls. The air is more than likely laced with cholera, or the black plague, or smallpox even. He goes to scoop his boy up and promise he will never ever leave him ever again so long as they both shall live, when the feeling of Regina's hand lightly gripping his forearm fractures through his thunderous thoughts.

"You're gonna be here to pick me up right?"

_Wait...What?_

"After lunch, right, Papa?"

_No! Well, yes of course he is...but…_

"Of course we are, Roland. I have a feeling your papa is going to be the first one back to come get you." Regina smiles, chuckling a bit as she bumps against Robin's shoulder, hoping to ease out the devastation on his face.  _At least wait to freak out once we leave, not in front of our son._  She gripes internally, but then again, Madam Mayor did attend more kindergarten classes, and grade 1...and 2...than any other parent.

"Okay."

_Whoa! Not Okay! I am not okay with this!_

Robin is about to vehemently, for the hundredth time he is certain, beg Regina to put this whole plan off, this grand scheme of separating father and son, when he is nearly knocked over by a fierce small hug.

_Run! You're holding onto him! Regina's magic can't be that quick, you could be outta here and into the Merry Men's camp before she can do anything!_

A wet, squished kiss hits his cheek, "Bye, Papa! Miss you!" And suddenly, his arms are vacant, grasping onto nothing but air, leaving him sitting on his arse on the rough, rocky floors, gaping in shock as he watches Regina bend down to quickly kiss Roland on the forehead and off his son runs,  _bloody traitor,_ and then it's just silence as the vault ironclad door slams shut.

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She waits, biting back a smile as he just sits there dumbfounded that their son actually wanted to go to school, like all normal children do, play with their friends, paint messy pictures, and do all the things that kids in kindergarten are supposed to. Apparently a concept Robin isn't taking very well.

"Whiskey?" She taps his boot with her heel.

"Huh?"

Chuckling, she extends out her hand, to which Robin latches onto like his only lifeline, and helps him to his feet, though his eyes are glued to the wooden door. She's rather certain he is figuring out if he can break it down. "How about a drink, Papa?" Her lips find his cheek and he unconsciously follows when she pulls back.

"Uh..." He stammers, turning back and forth between Regina's smile and the demonic barrier of a door.

"Come on, it will help."

He walks, shuffles really, ready to spin on a dime should he hear his boy's voice asking for him...but it's just quiet, horribly, horribly quiet. His eyes glance at the clock on the wall as Regina pushes the front doors open, 9:08 … he still has another 4 hours and fifty two minutes to go.

This is going to be the longest day of his life.


	21. Remembering the Vault

She remembers everything from that night. The desperation, anxiety mixed with passion, her heart thundering as he spoke of being righteous and true, having honour and a code to live by. His eyes confused, hazed over by what she now knows was a few too many whiskeys, and yet they were clear as day, bright blue depths of honesty as he stepped forward slightly, gauging her reaction.

She remembers her own puzzlement. If he was spewing about being a good man, why was he even here, with her, after she told him time and time again to forget, to move on, to love his wife. It didn't make sense, but somewhere deep, buried behind the stoic mask, a bubble glowed, hot and sparking. Just him being here, carrying on about not knowing what to do, had her heart jumping. He's torn, which means she still had a hold on him, a piece of him.

She remembers asking why he was here, not really hearing what he mumbled out before his lips were colliding on hers, messily pressing and pulling, asking for everything, giving everything. She knows he felt her hesitation, brought on by momentary shock, but his fingers held strong in her hair, holding her to him, waiting to either be pushed away or melted into. It was dangerous, but since when was she afraid? She is always afraid. For more than good reason now. Her heart won, pushing her mind into the darkness as her hands curled around him, letting him haul her onto unsteady feet, swaying and spinning them slightly, pulling back for a much needed breath, though only lasting a moment.

She remembers it all. How his hands scoured her body, needy and gentle, tugging down the zipper, letting the red cloth slide off her curves, the hitch in his breath at the newly revealed skin and lace, red lace, dark wine colored silk that he could do nothing but gape open mouthed at, heat flushing her cheeks at his breathless sentiment at her beauty.

She remembers feeling his lips trail across her collarbone, the wet trail left between her breasts as he sank to his knees, hands unabashedly squeezing her behind, the groan and scratch of his stubble on her stomach, making her shiver tip to toe. She felt wanted. For the first time in a very, very long time, she was being chosen.

She remembers the tears that momentarily lined her eyes, brushed quickly away as desire took over, his fingers tugging down the lace between her thighs. How she stayed standing when the heat of his mouth painted her, she doesn't actually know, but she remembers the shake of her knees, clawing her fingers through his hair, calling out his name as she fell from the peak, the soft tingle of his lips on her ribs as he moved back up, the taste of herself on his tongue, his arousal pressing between her thighs she opened without question.

She remembers the look in his eyes as he slid inside, the bright blue overtaken by lust, the fraction of a second he waited, simply watching her from above, his fingers brushing back the fallen sweaty locks behind her ear, the sweet simple kiss before he rolled into her, pushing them towards that bliss once more.

She remembers his voice, thick, gritted and never ending in his words, how she felt, how he wanted her so terribly, how he'd never leave, the smell of her, the softness, the perfection in her curves, his overt affection for the way her own voice hitched and gasped out his name. He wanted to give her everything, have her take whatever she needed, he would do it, whatever she wanted, he promised himself to her, only to her.

She remembers lying there afterwards, her still on her back, Robin on his stomach, legs locked together on the fur blanket, his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, hand on her chest where her heart was finally slowing back to normal, his lips dotting a line across her skin. It was quiet, serenely so. For a wonderful moment it was just them and the sound of their breathing as she combed through his sweaty hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, smoothing over his shoulder.

She remembers everything of that night.

It's a curse and a blessing all wrapped into one. The memory of being loved, feeling loved, loving back fully.

She's seen him here, walking hand in hand with Regina, has watched their happy affectionate kisses when they think no one else is looking, but she is always there, in mirrors, in the darkness of corners, taking in their happiness, a happiness she was one a part of, had felt, had known, silently to herself wishes for again.

To be sucked back into one person, Mayor and Queen sharing the same body once more, even just for a day, so she could remember how his lips feel on her own, hear him say he loves her. She said it once, the worst curse was being alone, and the Queen has never believed in that statement more than she does right now. Wishing for something, or rather someone, she will never have again.

All she has are her memories.


	22. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After 5x21......

It echoes.

Everything.

The clicking of her heels on cold hardwood floors, a buzzing in her ears from the deafening silence of no one being around, the beating of her heart against an empty soul, whispers of voices from people who aren't there bouncing off the walls. She's alone, with nothing but her thoughts. Her bitter, biting, angry thoughts.

She doesn't sleep, there is no warmth in her bed anymore. Doesn't eat, food tastes like ash in her mouth. Speaks to near no one, for conversation just seems unimportant now. It matters not who comes knocking quietly on the door, they are all silently turned away, except for Henry, but even his presence in her empty home is becoming more and more sporadic. It's her fault. She's knows it. Is pushing everyone away, again. Refuses a shoulder to cry on, a sign of weakness. Shakes off an ear ready to listen, her pain is her own to carry.

Life says she is to be alone, so alone she shall be. With an unbreakable mask hiding the fractured self that hides behind it. A last semblance of defense for a woman who can't find the will to fight anymore.

His jacket still hangs in the front hallway, a matching little one on the left hook. A quiver with six arrows leaning between them. A debilitating reminder she can't bear to remove, it would feel like erasing him, and she won't do that, would rather stare angrily at the articles instead of never seeing them again.

The sticker on her calendar catches her eye as she walks into the dark kitchen, a cartoon googly-eyed turkey in a pilgrim hat, colorful tail cut off by the red marked circle around the date. Another holiday she will sit completely alone, spent with a bottle of merlot as her only companion. It dulls the pain. Makes her memories a bit fuzzy. Their faces less intrusive. Laughs more muffled. She can simply drown herself away.

A yellow glow of the fire flickers about the cool den as she settles down, bottle in tow, a glass unnecessary, just something else that will she will have to clean, something that takes too much time to do before she can taste the thick bitterness hit her tongue. Refined Queen be damned, as she tips the bottle back, swallowing hard. It pools in her stomach, a cloying molasses that soothes from tip to toe.

This will help.

She can fill herself with liquor instead of turkey and mashed potatoes like everyone else surely is tonight.

She can't find much to be thankful for this year. Dismissed the invitations, avoided the hope speeches. There is no point. It's fine. She is fine. Time ticks by as she watches the first drops of snow fall from the sky. Puffy white flakes coating the ground.

They were supposed to have this. Build snowmen together, drink far too much hot chocolate, decorate the mansion in sparkling lights and coat it in the smell of pine from a massive tree. She was supposed to be in the kitchen, bumping her shoulder against his in front of the stove, scolding him playfully as a second apple turnover went missing, brushing the crumbs from a stubbled beard. He was supposed to be holding their hands as they walked down the street to the fair to meet Santa this year. His first time ever. They were supposed to eat till buttons burst, watch ridiculously cheesy holiday movies, and fall asleep all tucked in together on the couch.

But they aren't.

It won't happen.

She doesn't get to have that.

Swigging back another gulp, her sigh is heavy, toes curling under the wool blanket, but she's still cold. Henry is with Emma, and her parents, the pirate, Granny and Ruby, more than likely the dwarves have bargained a plate. Even Marco and August, newly reintroduced back to the town, are dining in the feast of thanks with everyone. They asked, she said no. She doesn't want to be surrounded by sad eyes and quiet whispers.

This is good. Just her and her wine.

Her nails clink against the glass, another echo in the quietness of her home, tinking in beats of four she counts incessantly, giving her something to focus on as her mind buzzes gently. Maybe she will just sleep, tomorrow is another day. She wipes the small trailing red line of wine that coasts down the green bottle, a stain on her white couch is something she'd rather avoid.

A knock at the door booms through the room, an unwelcome noise she frowns at. Alone. She wanted to be alone. Can't they respect that? After everything she did and lost for them, can they not grant her this one damn wish. Grumbling, she pushes to her feet, slightly wobbly in her wine induced state, and she stalks to the door, building her mask up quickly as her hand curls around the cold gold door knob.

Stunned. She's stunned.

They are all here. Smiling up at her, without even really a hello as they flood inside, hauling in plates of saran wrapped food, Ruby sliding by with a box of wine and a wink, all seven munchkins squeeze around her, nodding their heads in greeting, hands full of, well everything, potatoes, turnips, carrots, vegetables, gravy, cranberry sauce, and stuffing. She doesn't do anything but stare at them, mouth agape, eyes wide as her house is suddenly full of chatter, doesn't register the quick peck Granny smacks against her cheek as she too invades inside, with Marco and August, and even . The Pirate walks in next, hand in hand with Emma, who presses a bottle of rum into her hands with a cheeky grin and she watches them go, still unable to process what the hell is going on.

"Where should we put this?"

She turns, finding David mildly struggling with the biggest turkey she's seen in her life. Her hand automatically motions to the kitchen, though she isn't really sure why, but he steps around her, thanking her quickly. And then it's just Snow and Henry, still waiting on the doorstep.

Snow steps first, grabbing Regina's hand, who unbeknownst to her is trembling slightly, and tugs her into a hug "Happy Thanksgiving Regina." Her soft voice whispers into her ear as she squeezes tight for a second before following David and the rukous that's now overflowed into the living room and den.

All she can do is nod. Shocked. Snow smiles, pats her arm gently and leaves.

She feels Henry's arms wrap around her waist, his nose nuzzling into her temple neck as his lips peck her cheek sweetly. "You okay?"

Is she? Her plans of guzzling back enough wine to put her into a coma for the night and hopefully the next day has been commandeered. It oddly has her heart flickering in a way she hasn't felt in a long time, never thought she'd feel again. Her body is being pulled, gently towards the commotion, and she follows, walking straight into the laughter her walls have missed, the smell of food her kitchen has lacked, the voices coating around her like a warm hug she didn't know she needed.

She hits a chair, squeezed between Henry and David, who is piling food onto her plate, a glass of wine already poured.

"Hey Regina!" Grumpy hollers from behind her, "You got any pie?"

"Uh. It's in the freezer."

"Excellent! Can't have Thanksgiving without your famous apple pie."

A small smile parts, a little blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Someone clinks a glass and the dining room grows quiet as Henry stands up, clearing his throat and adjusting his shirt nervously as his eyes connect to hers.

"I just wanted to say that I know it's been a tough year." She swallows hard against the lump that blooms in her throat. "And I know, that we are missing some key people at this table tonight." He nods towards two chairs that are suddenly pulled up beside her. "And while we may never be a fully complete family again." She blinks hard against the lining of tears, hot against her lashes as she see's their names scrawled on two white tags. "I'm grateful I at least still have all of you."

It's not happy per say, but she does feel something in the pit of her stomach, something less akin to despair and leaning towards peace.

"So, Happy Thanksgiving everyone, I am thankful we still have each other."

Glasses are raised, and she holds her own up, absently cheersing those that surround her table. They all reciprocate before taking the first swig, and she looks down at the two empty glasses beside her, sighing heavy as her glass finds theirs.

"Happy Thanksgiving Roland." She taps her wine to an empty cup that should be filled with apple juice.

Swallowing heavy, she moves, clinking her wine glass to the other vacant one where he should be.

"Happy Thanksgiving Robin."


	23. Lemonade

It's hot, stiflingly so, all blue sky, no clouds, beating down bright yellow sun and she is sweating. Well, lightly perspiring, Queens don't sweat. The small of her back moist, clinging to the white cotton tank top, a trailing sweat bead running down her neck and between her breasts, even the ends of her hair and baby wisps on her temple are curling irritatingly in the heat. But it's not so much the weather that has her body sweltering as she leans over the chair, reaching for the pitcher of lemonade in quiet desperation of quenching her thirst.

It's the wrong  _thirst_ , and the drink is far too sweet on her tongue, grainy sugar laced in tartness, but she headily gulps it down, crunches a melting ice cube and swallows, inhaling deeply as she watches quietly from the porch, pretending to busy herself in flowers or something else equally mundane. However, she has no flowers, not a single damn pot, so the plan of not staring is going rather terrible.

How can she not though? Stare? This is not a kink she'd thought she would ever have, is most certainly caught off guard by it, she is, well was, the Evil Queen, the face of royalty and regality, silly little peasant things like this shouldn't have her thighs trembling, pupils dilating, rushes of moisture slicking between her legs, a wetness that has her heart bouncing about, mind going to mush, throat running dry, third glass of lemonade be damned, and nipples straining against the slide of a silk bra.

And she tries to look away, really she does, attempts to focus on a marching line of little ants near her toes, eight of them, all circled around a drip of sugary yellow liquid. She watches a bird swing through the sky, a sparrow or perhaps a finch, she doesn't really know the difference between them. She flicks her gaze to everything but this, because  _this_  is, well it's…it's ridiculous, preposterous, and downright embarrassing that something so simple has her squirming in the white wicker patio chair.

This isn't a situation she ever thought she would come across. Never would she have pictured domesticity like this to be a part of her life. In any capacity. Hadn't imagined herself standing in a robe every morning, making a full pot of coffee, instead of a half whilst cooking extra bacon and eggs, knowing that at quarter past seven strong muscled arms would wrap around her waist, a good morning kiss to her cheek she leans into before her love runs to wake their boys, who will grumble and bargain for a few more minute of sleep until plates are set in front of them, devoured in seconds.

Sure, she'd wondered about family life and all it entails, but honestly didn't realize just how in love she would be with the real thing. Quick goodbyes pressed into messy sleep hair, perhaps a longer one to soft lips, both promising to be home early from work because it's taco night. It's the littlest things that are everything to her.

But this. This is the part of domestic life she is newly learning, and adoring, amongst other things.

She could do it herself, obviously, with a wave of her hand it could be finished, but then she wouldn't have the opportunity to gawk and soak in this scene right now. Shirt off, tucked into the back pocket of low hanging dark denim jeans, tanned skin glistening in a hint of sheen and sweat, warmed by the sun, muscles flexing as he pushes back and forth, clipping green blades in perfectly straight passes that have her clenching shaky thighs together.

She has learned for an outlaw, he actually has a bit of OCD for things like this. Everything has a place, neat and tidy, systematically stacked, uniformly pressed, even, in line, immaculate. Much to her surprise, his little quirk has become quite the turn on. Granted she knows how impeccable she appreciates things to be, so the fact he doesn't snigger and poke fun at the symmetrical way she arranges dishes, or the specific need to fold towels in threes length wise, not square, well, it just has her pulsating even hotter for him.

Licking a drop of sugar sweet lemonade from her lower lip, she swallows heavily, gulping against the tightness in her throat as he sends a wink her way on his next pass, cheeky, dimpled, overtly smug.

He must know what this is doing to her, toying with her like this, purposefully splashing water on the back of his neck in a façade of cooling himself down, and in return setting her on fire as her eyes follow the beads that drip and trail along the carved grooves of his torso, sliding down taut defined muscle, soaking along the black elastic band of dark green briefs she knows are hiding under superbly fitted blue denim.

He should do this with no clothes on. She should make it a rule. As Mayor, and Queen, and just because she is his wife, technically she could. All house chores must be done naked, but only when she is home, has lemonade, or perhaps a nice bottle of Shiraz to sip on as she watches him tackle housework. Especially these kind of chores, the ones that have him slightly out of breath, hair tousled, a flecking of dirt defining area's she will be more than happy to wash off later in a sudsy, soapy, touchy feely shower.

Yes, definitely he should be doing this particular job sans clothes. Toned thighs, strong calves, adorable round ass all exposed for her viewing pleasure.

Fantasies are healthy.

Not that she is certain watching Robin mow her lawn in the nude should be at the top of her bucket list, or on it at all, but he is sexy, and shirtless, and cutting perfectly straight lines into the lush green of her front lawn. It is doing things to her. Dirty, naughty things. Perhaps she could get him a glass of lemonade too, poor thing, he must be tired by now, surely, and she should probably just run her hands along his chest to pick off the few stray blades of grass that cling deliciously to sweaty skin. He deserves it after doing  _such_  a good job.

The jug is empty. Dammit. Rolling her eyes, she debates for a half second whether he  _really needs_ a drink or could she just keep devouring him with her eyes. But his hand runs through his hair as he puffs out a breath, abs contracting with the exhale, and his jeans have been tugged down a bit revealing the slightest peak of green, and she should just take his...no...no...no... she certainly should not do what was just playing through her mind, in the middle of the afternoon, on a saturday when any moment, anyone could waltz by and see their precious Mayor engaging in inappropriate behaviour.

Later though...she muses, later could work, will work.

Her house is much cooler than outside, and if she had just stayed indoors then this entire issue wouldn't even be happening, she isn't some horny teenager, she's just horny. Dammit. The fridge. Open the fridge, grab the jug of lemonade and take it back outside. Simple. One step at a time. No problem. Easy as pie. Oh. They should have pie tonight, all warmed up in the oven, heating her home, even if she is already hot, and Robin is definitely hot, and she should probably get back outside to linger on his physique, but she was in the kitchen for something...what was it...right, lemonade, for her overworked husband whose currently slaving away outside in the swelter.

She steps quickly to get back outside, because she knows Robin is most likely thirsty, and still shirtless, and— Oh. My. God…

He's hedging her bushes, and christ almighty, he is taunting her, with every bloody snap of the metal shears, his biceps flexing, her knees weakening, the dimples on his lower back out for display, and she stares, licks her lips, and holds on tight to the cold glass of lemonade she was bringing out to him, taking a sip herself against the renewed parchedness in her throat, he won't notice anyway.

Her feet move, how she isn't really sure, but they do, and she is closing the distance between her and his half naked, sweaty, bronzed muscled, hoist her up and slam her against a wall, fuck me in all the ways body.

He moves, just to the right, pulling out a smaller pair of scissors and scowling at a rogue branch, pinching the leaf and pulling it, like he does to her nipples, oh god, and twirling the small bud between his fingers, and fuck, he snips it, precisely so, and the wall of greenery is picture perfect once more.

"Regina?"

When did she get beside him? Shit. This is ridiculous, why is she here again...standing beside him with wide eyes, stunned because he is close, really close to her, squaring them hip to hip, and jesus, his chest is not a foot from her, begging to be touched as his breath rises and falls, expanding and contracting rhythmically, and it's hot, under her fingertips that have subconsciously made their way to his pecs moving up as her eyes trail lower, to that button…

"Are you alright, love?"

She snaps, shakes her mushy, buzzing brain till reality clears back in, huffing out a trembly breath he hopefully didn't catch, because she would be mortified if he knew, and is totally embarrassed at the smug half grin plastered on his face, because he does know, smiles wider, all irritatingly dimpled and sparkling blue eyes. God, she should just punish him for being so ridiculously handsome and reading her like a book.

"I brought you a glass of lemonade." She swallows, retracting her hand still resting on his chest, and damn, she is obvious, needs to work on her poker face, but he trimmed her hedges, mowed her lawn, and cut her rose bushes into cute little blobs that adorn their walkway, and well, she loves him for it.

"It's empty?"

"What?" She looks down, and sure as shit, there is nothing but two half melted ice cubes clinking against the glass, apparently her self control mid horny trance is lacking severely.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He moves, grabbing her hip, damn near having her buckle from just a touch. "You look a little flushed." His other hand brushes along the nape of her neck, feeling the moist, sweat dampened hair and he is smiling at her, again, and she wants to smack him, kiss him, and then smack him, up against her vanity, or wall, oooh her shower wall… that is definitely a possibility, a cold shower, with a very hot, very naked husband.

"Too much time in the sun."

Robin hums, and Regina scorches because he knows, and she knows he knows, and he knows she knows he knows, and it's all just laughable, and absurd that she is so overtly turned on by him mowing their lawn. But he loves her, and all the weird hidden pulses that make his wife,  _her._  And he loves everything about her, even the comical underlying reasons why she is pressing herself up against him now, running long fingernails down his back, and bloody hell he saw they were painted purple today, and she knows he loves purple on her, knows just how much the shade has him itching to touch her, to taste her, and fuck, yep, they are purple, he watches as her fingers run through her hair, and he's still not technically done working outside, and he needs to do the rest of the yard, but he'd rather do her.

She gasps, high pitched and breathy when he hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, him holding her with single arm as he fumbles with the door handle, and he needs to fix it cause it's loose, and is making it impossible to open the damn door, and her magic pulses, the sudden cold air conditioned wall a welcome relief, but she is hot against his chest, lips attached to that particular pulse point behind his jaw and fuck, why do they have so many goddamn stairs in this house? Too many, he needs her now, and the couch will just have to work, she can gripe at him later for it.

.

..

…

..

.

Sated, jelly limbed and wonderfully naked she curls into him, sighing happily, pressing a kiss into his skin, that tastes like salt, and grass, and dirt and they should shower, and move off the floor in the den before someone decides to waltz in.

He stumbles, but holds her up right as the purple cloud fades away, chuckling that she ought to let herself have at least five minutes after coming that hard, and she wants to poke back at him, they didn't make it to the bedroom, or the couch, and that was entirely his fault, but she can't find the energy to do so when the soft scratching of her loofa slides up her back, thanks to him, and her forehead hits the crook of his neck, eyes closing as he suds up and washes her down.

He shuts the water off, she wraps her arms around him, kissing him happily as he hums into her mouth, patting her backside affectionately as she reaches to grab their towels, unable to tamp down the goofy grin, nor the lightness that pulses in her heart. She sits on their bed, one leg crossed under the other as she watches him dress, confused as he starts tugging on the same pair of pants, foregoing his shirt, which is fine by her, but is still odd, the front yard is done, it's not like there is anything for him to finish up.

He must see her bewilderment, because he laughs, and pads over to her, tipping her chin up and kissing her. She has half a mind to pull him down onto the mattress, and more importantly on top of her, but he pulls away before she can decide. Regina scowls, pouts out her bottom lip and glares at him, as his fingers tug open her towel, just so he can peruse her well seen to body for another moment before righting himself and stepping just out of her reach.

"Where are you going?"

"I still have the backyard to finish."

She whines, falling back into the pillows at the thought, Robin leaning over to nip at her breast before she rolls over, face buried into the pillows, hands curling the towel tight around her chest, a hitch and squeak escaping when his hand connects a bit rougher than a gentle pat on her bottom. She whimpers and the room goes silent, leaving her with nothing but a replay of earlier and the sudden new desperation to get the image of him back out in the sun, sweaty, flexing, and tending to her apple tree out of her head.

Focus on something else. Anything else. Like how she has to go to the grocery store to get ingredients for fajitas tonight, make a list, lettuce, tortillas, chicken, toma— the growl of the lawn mower echoes, rumbling just underneath her balcony, and what was she doing? Dinner. Fajitas. Tortillas, tomatoes...onions, lettu— there it goes again, fading and building which means he is walking back and forth again, in perfectly straight lines and fuck it all to hell, he can't see if she watches him from up here.

Tying her robe messily around her waist, she leans against the window, parting the blinds just enough that she can see him, and fuck, he is waving at her.

Dammit.

She seriously needs to find something out of the house to do.


	24. You said you loved him too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the sneak peek 6x10 in the graveyard with EQ and Regina after.
> 
> (also it's 1am, but I couldn't sleep till I wrote this down - so my bad for mistakes, this is unbeta'd)

 

It's cold, painstakingly so as she crunches over frozen leaves on the path she has walked a thousand times. And yet. It's so different this time around. Hours earlier she'd come upon her darker self sitting in front of Robin's grave, mumbling something her thunderous heart muffled away, but it was her eyes that had Regina's heart stilling. The Queen, the one without a heart, had red rimmed eyes, and a shining wetness hidden from everyone but her.

She's figured it out, well, they both have, being split apart though till technically tied together by a soul comes with it's own intricacies, they feel the other's emotions. The anger, the rage, the bitterness, the softness, the pain, the longing...it's all there, whether they want it or not. The price of magic, unable to truly escape the other.

She screamed at the Queen in panic, furious she would dare stand in front of his tomb, but then, the monarch spoke, a tremble in her voice, thick and heavy,  _she loved him too_. The words sank into Regina's gut, spiked and swirled about like tar. Of course the Queen would have loved him. Had been loved by him in some capacity. Regina knows that feeling. The pure light her lost love embraced her with, whispered it into every cell in her body, kissed his endearment into her skin every day, the butterflies flourishing at his dimpled grin saved only for her, hands that held her own strong and steady, much like the heartbeat she used to fall asleep with.

It's why she is here, eyes glued to the stone arc where his name is etched as she passes by, silently telling him she loves him, words he never had the chance to hear, but he knows she did, he had to of known.

For three weeks since his passing she has searched for a way to bring him back, but how she finds a lost obliterated soul, she does not know, spell books only can go so far, most relying on True Love's Kiss as a last resort.

But it didn't work.

She tried that night, in her office, huddled over his body, calling his name in a whisper through tears, brushing back tousled sandy brown hair and stubbled cheeks, had kissed his cold hard lips til her own felt like bleeding. She begged, quietly pleaded for his eyes to open. And much like the first time a love was taken from her, he didn't wake up.

So no, her spell books haven't helped, but Henry...he had given her an idea, probably on accident as he made mention of their soulmate title, her heart doubled over, and just maybe...maybe.

The door creaks open as she pushes against it hard, flicking away the blood lock tiredly, in no mood for any more games tonight, she's exhausted and just wants Robin back. There is no quiet muffled entrance she tries to hide, simply clicks down the stone steps and into her vault, commandeered by the Queen, and it's strange, walking into her own space that another holds, she should be annoyed, put up a fight and banish the royal, but she can't, finds it odd, and yet rather endearing? If that's the right word, that the monarch feels safe in this space, in her space.

"What do you want?" Her own voice growls out from around the corner, the sight of the Queen in a dark blue silk night gown and robe startling, but it's not really the time to comment on how undone her other half looks, dark circles under cold angry eyes, fatigued etched across her face. She wonders if she is looking into a mirror, the exhaustion that clings to her is overwhelming at best these days.

Regina swallows, shrugging her coat off and laying it on the chest beside her, "I need your help." The Queen laughs, rolls her eyes and arches an eyebrow at her docile twin, "I was wondering when you would switch sides." She stands, the silk robe flowing around her, "That's now what I meant." Regina snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest.

They can't hurt each other without inflicting pain on themselves, and while the thought surely has crossed Regina's mind that maybe it would all just be easier if she ended this herself, taking both Mayor and Monarch out in one swift crush of her heart, it's Henry that holds her here still.

"Then what Regina?"

"Robin. I need your help to bring him back."

The Queen stills, scowling hard, fire flickering behind her eyes.

"Why would I?"

Silence echoes around them, ricocheting off the walls as they stare at one another, equally trying to find a crack in the facade the other holds. The Queen breaks first. "It's not possible to bring back the dead. You of all people should know that." Regina winces, nodding that yes, she does know it, but still, the amount of hope speeches she has had to endure from Snow White have left maybe the smallest glimmer in her fragile heart that maybe there is a possibility, a chance.

"This is different."

"How?"

"He and I shared a soul, technically all three of us did now that you and I are…" she motions between them, "what we are."

A dark smile tugs across the Queen's face as hands come to rest on her hips, a finger pointing, accusingly questioning as she stalks forward, "You want me to give up my soul for him, don't you?" She snarks, pressing a long red painted nail into the black wool coat Regina wears, pushing hard till she see's the other woman shift under its pressure above her heart, their heart.

"I'd be giving up a part of mine as well, I just need a part of yours too."

"Do you really think I'd do that? For you?"

"Yes" Regina swallows thickly, tears burning at the back of her eyes though she dare not shed a single one now. "I think you will, I know you will. You remember what love felt like with him. I know you want that back."

"Love is weakness." The Queen hisses, though her eyes betray her, a swirling of something Regina hopes, is well, hope. Robin loved them, both of them, equally, unequivocally, and intentionally.

"You know that's not true."

"It made you weak, his death was the last straw that broke the camel's back."

"That doesn't make me weak."

"Doesn't it? You nearly destroyed yourself, destroyed me, all because of lost love. Haven't we gone down this path before."

"You weren't there with Daniel."

"Wasn't I? Haven't I always been with you Regina? Tucked away, locked up in a box you never intended on opening."

Regina shakes her head, but the Queen smiles, knowing the truth in her words. "I know what love felt like, but I also know that it's not worth the pain when you lose it."

"He loved you, just as much as me."

"No. He  _only_  loved you. I just sat beneath the surface like a good little pet while you played heroic housewife. He never loved the Evil Queen."

"What about in the Enchanted Forest? He didn't fall in love with me, that was all you. Hard headed, tempered, angry and lost."

"We were still one person, he may have found interest in my presence, but it was the light side of you that pulled him in."

"You know that's not entirely true."

"How? How could I possibly know that?"

"The night of the shattered curse, you came out, in full force, and he wanted to stay, to protect you. Not me. You."

"No that's -"

"It is true. Don't deny it because you are being too stubborn to see the truth. He was never afraid of you, or of me."

The Queen steps back, dropping her eyes from Regina's that shine with tears, her own traitorously lining her lashes. It's not the same. If she brings him back, Regina gets him. Not her. He won't choose her. Won't love her. Won't want her. She'd be a bystander, forced to watch from the sidelines as her other half found the happiness they both craved with the same man.

"You said you loved him too."

"I can't."

"If you help me, I promise I will help you in return."

"You can't help me, Regina. I'm the  _Evil Queen_ , destruction and revenge are all I know."

"I don't think that's completely true."

"Then you're just fooling yourself."

"Why else would you sit at his grave, in the middle of the night, laying a rose on his stone? Why, if you didn't want him back just as terribly as I do, would you be there talking to him?"

"I-"

"You miss him."

The Queen nods, stunned.

"I miss him too. And I need him back."

"If I give up a part of my soul, I don't know what happens to me. We are already split in two."

"I know. But if it brings him back, isn't it worth it?"

Regina's heart pounds in her chest, rattling between her ribs as she watches the Queen search inside herself, battling between self preservation that has been her only companion, and the desperate longing of what might be. She freezes as the Queen's heart pulses in purple electricity, slamming her fist into her own chest, catching a tight scream that Regina feels in her core, a ripping sensation that tugs low at her spine, shearing through tendon and muscle as it claws through her chest. A bright white ball produces in the Queen's hand, a second in Regina's. They both stare down at the swirling globe, light as a feather, opaque and warm.

"I thought mine would be darker." The Queen muses, walking back towards Regina, extending the glowing ball out in front of her. "Take it, before I regret this."

"Thank You."

She turns, sweat pooling down her back as her hands shake holding the two tiny wrapped up spheres of their souls, humming in her palms with steady vibration.

"Regina."

Her eyes cast back into the vault, to where the Queen has resumed sitting on the chest,  _the one where Robin had chosen her all those months ago,_  her hands wrapped tightly around her abdomen, as she licks her lips, huffing out a trembling breath.

"If you do it, if he comes back…"

"I promise I'll bring him here."

The Queen nods, toying with a curl of hair.

"I do love him."

"I know. So do I."


	25. Tinkerbell

It's a memory clear and fresh as though it was yesterday, not decades ago. Meeting a young Queen desperate to escape the dark jail cell that held down her by chains, cutting into the soft outer exterior of a once naive girl, hardening her heart till nothing but pain and fury resided behind.

_Love, you need love._

Words dreamily passed between, over a wooden picnic table under the beating sun. The chocolate swirls storming in hope, a dulled sparkle that wished to flourish, yet forced to the back by doubt and skepticism.

_You're going to help me find another soulmate?_

She stole the dust, gripped the Queen's hand and ran through darkened alleys, her heart thundering at the opportunity of connecting lovers, being a part of a happily ever after. It's what fairies do, grant wishes. The idea that it would all come shattering down around her wasn't even a thought as she pointed to the man with the lion tattoo, bathed in a green glimmer, the Queen's sharp intake of breath, baited, anticipating and utterly terrified beside her, as they stared through the fogged tavern glass door.

_Come on, Pixie Dust doesn't lie. This is your chance at love and happiness._

_I can do this. I can be happy._

_I know you can._

She'd walked away then, letting the Queen steal her nerves, let go of her anger and walk into the bar. Her heart skipped over and over, a melodic drumming, bursting like golden sunshine as she turned the corner, she had done it, brought a happy ending into reality.

..

...

..

Life gets in the way though, demon's break out of locked away places, creep into minds and hearts, dragging fear and uncertainty with them and before she understood what had happened, it was the thick coying forest of neverland that had become her new home, a banishment where she had no wings, no magic, and no one to believe in her.

_Why couldn't you just go through that door and meet your soulmate?_

Rage, anguish filled, all consuming, tear burning rage. It swelled and boiled as her fingers gripped into the meaty flesh of the Queen's heart, who simply stood defeated fifteen feet away, unable to meet her gaze, looking dare she think it, ashamed.

_Was being happy such a terrible fate?_

_Yes. Yes it was. I was afraid…._  - the heart in her palm thunders, pulsating rather sadly -  _that anger was all I had...what would I be without it?_

Unbelievable, she didn't even know…

_Happy._

It's all she wanted for the Queen...to be happy...for someone to finally give her a chance to prove she could be everything Blue wanted her to be.

Shame she picked the wrong soul to help.

..

...

..

 _Did you ever go back and find him? The man with the lion tattoo? -_ she knew the answer already, could tell by the sullen expression on Regina's face, but that flicker of hope still beat, still wondered if at some point during the wretched years of her life, had there been a moment of reprieve, a meeting of two people destined…

 _No_.

Of course she didn't, irritation floods through her -  _do you know how selfish that is?_

The Queen stills, frowning slightly at her low tone.. _it's a lost of things, but how is that selfish_...it's there again, behind the darkness, she can see it, the young Queen, concerned and scared, hiding behind a mask of vengefulness and spite.

_You didn't just ruin your life, you ruined his._

She doesn't care anymore, about the Queen of her destined soulmate, or at least doesn't want to care...but for every minute spent trying to save a boy from Pan, she see's it. The lingering casted gazes between Hook and the Blonde, the slight recoil in her chest, as though she'd been punched, when Snow White smiles doe eyed at her Prince. She aches for it, hidden away from eyes that can't see past her armour.

She aches for love.

Still.

..

...

..

It's at a funeral, well the aftermath of one, when she see's him, or rather it. Blaring out like a siren, black ink on gold tanned skin, a lion rearing on two hind legs, it's an image she's kept with her for years.

 _It's the lion tattoo!_  - this could be it, maybe it was about timing instead -  _he's your soulmate! -_ She hushes excitedly to the Mayor who gripes at her to be quiet, muttering she already knows who he is. For a fraction she is a touch put off at not being the first person to know about this, after all it was her pixie dust...stolen pixie dust, but all in the same.

She hears him move, her heart pounding as he makes his way over to them, extending out a glass of whiskey, and she wants to hug him for being here, for being so close to his soulmate, to their happy ending he isn't even aware of. A repeated cycling inner monologue to keep her composure, but she is buzzing, they are buzzing, talking in low husky tones they obviously don't realize, but she does, she hears how his voice falters,  _I do hope I didn't upset you yesterday_...he's got nice eyes, eyes that are locked onto Regina's, blue like the ocean, dotted with greens and bronze.

How Regina can just stand there and not immediate throw herself into this man's arms, she will never understand …

_Robin Hood - Tinkerbell….Tinkerbell, Robin Hood._

It's an introduction decades in the making.

 _I've been wanting to meet you for a very long time_ \- she grins, avoiding the eye roll and exasperated huff of breath from the woman beside her.

_I don't daytime drink._

She's an idiot, a stubborn bloody child.

_Ah, perhaps some other time then._

He is perfection, handsome, soft, rugged, and apparently persistent. Good, he'll need to be.

Robin walks away, and Regina, incredulously, does nothing, just stands there pretending to not follow every footstep he takes to the other side of the diner.

_Maybe if your heart had been open to the possibility of love, your life wouldn't have turned out so…_

_So what?_ The Queen snaps-  _How did my life turn out?_

Defense, it's what she's always done, walling off everyone around.

_Why do I even bother?_

..

...

..

She'd seen them around town, and her heart was all fluttery and blooming as they strolled hand in hand down the streets, pausing to kiss underneath archways, smiles never faltering as they leaned into one another. She glowed. From the tips of her green sparkling toe clad shoes to the last bouncing curl of hair. Finally, it felt as though she had gotten something right, did something right, had been a good fairy after all.

The feeling vanquished far too quickly as she watched another woman hold his hand, the Mayor on the verge of tears as her world was split apart. She could feel it. The fracture in the air as she counted every step the Queen walked away, away from her happy ending and the man that was supposed to give it to her.

She boiled at the thought he could be so careless with her, after everything they'd been through, he decides  _honour_  lay with a woman who wasn't supposed to even be here. For weeks, the fairy brooded in her home, half wishing she could smack some sense into the outlaw for his ridiculous behaviour, the other anxiously wondering if she should go to Regina.

She didn't.

Had no real words that could provide any sort of comfort in a situation like this. Pixie dust isn't meant to bring heartache, and it's her fault, or so it seems that the Mayor is holed up in her home and office, avoiding the world like a plague that will bleed her dry should she venture out.

Months had passed, and Tinkerbell fell into the recesses of the new world, wondering if it had all been worth it when she watched devastated from the tree's as he kissed her once last time, held her hand and crossed the town line. She'd even gone as far as to follow the Mayor home, listened from beneath her balcony at the quiet inconsolable tears that muffled into silk pillows.

Maybe love isn't worth it.

..

...

..

He'd come back. She gone to save him and the world suddenly had a new light shining in her eyes. Okay, so maybe love just came with a few bumps in the road, but pixie dust never lies. They've found each other and all is as it should be.

They were happy. Cuddled together in Granny's booth, walking hand in hand with their boys around them, sitting snuggled side by side on a bench as their family played in the park. She knew it. This was it. A happy ending she'd been a part of creating. Pride swelled and she found a new bounce in her step, until they went to the underworld.

..

...

..

She stands on the doorstep, facing a white wall of pain beyond, the golden number 108 seem dull in the moonlight. His funeral was something she couldn't bring herself to attend. To force the image of Regina laying a rose on his grave and saying a goodbye that never should have happened. She feels responsible for the anguish that lay behind the front door, the apprehension of knocking tumultuous in her stomach, sitting like a stone weight.

Her knuckles rap quietly, half hoping maybe there won't be an answer, a notion that fades as she hears the padding of socked feet closing the distance, and the twist of the knob from the inside.

"Oh. Hey Tinkerbell."

It's Henry, puffy eyed, sniffly and tie undone, that answers the door. Death doesn't affect a singular person, that much is apparent as she smiles small at the young boy, knowing it wasn't just a soulmate that was lost, but a would be parent.

"Hi Henry. I'm sorry if this isn't a good time, I-" She what, what is she here to do? Her hands fidget nervously, maybe this wasn't a good idea. It feels as though she is simply here to rub salt on a very fresh, very deep bleeding wound. "I can come back." She turns, "Wait." He blows out a puff of air, opening the door wider, "Come inside, it's cold."

It's a rather feeble invitation, and she takes it hesitantly, walking across the doorway quietly so not to attract too much attention, but the house is quiet, save for the flickering crackle of fire in the room to her right. "Do you want something to drink?"

She shakes her head, politely declining, and moves to a place that feels hollow, and she the intruder. The crippling crumble of her heart stills her feet, Regina, sitting in the corner of her sofa, legs curled underneath a blanket, whiskey in hand as her swollen red rimmed eyes stare unblinking into the fire. Henry's hand on her back gently presses her into the room, guiding her to the couch, to a vacant cushion that seems far too close to the grieving woman. They sit in silence, her eyes unable to meet the ones that slowly move up her face, a tight inhale that follows. "Tinkerbell?"

It's shaky at best, the notice towards her presence, and the tears, traitorously so, and more than likely inappropriate right now, fall, thick and fat down her rosy cheeks.

"I'm so sorry Regina."

The Queen doesn't answer, merely stares at the woman curiously in front of her, feet shifting slightly to allow for more room.

"This is all my fault."

"No it's not."

"Of course it is."

She swallows thickly against the lump in her throat, praying for the tears to stop dripping down, it seems unkind she is here for absolution when consoling another is the more important pressing issue at hand.

"Why would any of this be your fault?"

"Because…" She sniffs hard, "If I never stole that pixie dust, if I never forced you to meet him, berated you for running away-"

"I never would have had him."

Tinkerbell nods, heart twisting in her chest. She created this pain. All of it. Just so she could feel good about herself. Selfish to the enth degree. She's a horrible, horrible fairy.

"I'm so-sorry I did th-at to y-you." Her face clouds with misery as Henry hands her a tissue, to which she presses to her face, hiding her misery behind white flimsy cotton. "That I forced you-"

"You didn't force me Tinkerbell." Regina reaches for her hand, prying it away from her face to settle in her own lap, lacing their fingers together as new tears line gritty dry eyes. "You did exactly the opposite." The fairy frowns, crinkling the snot blown tissue in her free hand. "You gave me another chance at love."

"But you lost it, again."

The mayor nods her head, wiping away her own tears as Henry settles at their feet, resting his head on his mother's thigh.

"It's not fair to you Regina."

"Not much in life ever is."

'But you deserved it. After everything you have been put through, after all you've conquered and survived, this should have been your happy ending."

"You're right, but I think there is still a part of me that thinks I don't truly deserve a happy ending after everything I did."

"But you've changed."

"I have, but maybe not enough to warrant it."

"I don't believe that."

Regina shrugs, combing through Henry's hair. And the fall into a quiet silence, for minutes she doesn't have the energy to count, nor wishing to dwell on.

"I'm still sorry."

"You shouldn't be."

"I caused this pain."

"No. Hades caused this pain."

"You wouldn't be in this situation if I didn't press you to find him in the first place."

"Well, you're right, I suppose."

Tinkerbell sinks at that, knowing it's finally time to have the Queen's agonizing wrath handing to her on a silver plate, and she breathes heavy waiting for the onslaught.

"I'm grateful for what you did."

Their eyes meet, matching watery wells, a sad smile gracing a confused stunned bewilderment.

"I lost him. There is no bringing Robin back."

The fairy's heart crumbles.

"But, I also got to love him, and be loved by him, and that is something I can't ever regret, I won't ever regret."

She tries to hold them back, to stifle the bleeding in her heart, but she can't, her will crashing around her as she begins to sob, uncontrollably, into the arms of the last person she really expected to be consoled from.

They sit there, huddled on the mayor's couch, weeping for a man who was taken so unfairly, crying for the life that will never be fulfilled, and it hurts, cuts deep in Tinkerbell's stomach, a piece of her crumbled to ash, damaged and irreversible.

"Pixie dust didn't lie, and I am grateful Tinkerbell, for you."


	26. Have We Met Before?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For 6x10

 

She's ready. Ready to go home, back to the world they belong in, her heart stampeding as the portal swirls emerald and white two inches from her toes. All they need to do it jump. She feel's Emma reach for her hand, to which she grasps, not wanting to get separating in the in between. Any second now, it just needs to get a little larger and then -

_WHOOSH!_

They duck as something whizzes past their heads, brushing the top of her hair as they fall to the ground. "What the hell?". She turns to the log, seeing a second arrow pierce the bark.

"Not another step ladies."

She freezes at the voice. A voice only heard in her dreams, a sound lost to her since that horrid day. It can't be though, he's gone. It's not him. The disbelief muffled out as she turns to the source. Time stops. Swirls around and hones in on a silhouette she'd never thought she'd get to see again. Her ears ring, blood thundering about as she stands on shaky legs, the rocks below shifting beneath her boots. Blue. Bright ocean blue. They stare right at her, and she is lost to them. But it's not possible. He's gone. She watched him die. She buried him. Laid a rose on his grave. Has gone back every night to the grave site just to talk to him, though no one answers.

She's going crazy.

"This is a robbery."

Oh God.

His voice.

It's his voice.

The soft timber burns through her as she brushes past Emma, hands trembling in leather gloves as his bow points directly at her. He's a mirage. He has to be. But she has to make sure she's not hallucinating, has to just see if he is truly standing, breathing and alive not ten feet away, needs to feel his heart beating under her palm.

Her voice shakes as she calls his name, not really to him, but to herself, because this can't be real, feels utterly impossible that she can see him, standing, right there, talking to her, actually talking, using real words, not just ones her mind creates when the nights get lonely and desperate.

"Let's go!" He changes his stance, shifting his aim away from her, though his eyes maintain her gaze. "Off with the jewelry." She'd give everything she has to know if this isn't a dream, part of this odd wish realm her mind is conjuring. Would give the stars freely if she could, just to be able to touch him, to feel him. She hears Emma react, anxious as she moves past her, something about he's not real, it's a dream, he's not real. But he has to be real. Doesn't he? He's right there. Looking straight at her. He has to be real.

She steps closer, heart thrashing about her chest as the world fades to nothing but him, his hair darker, shorter, less scruff, but she can see his dimples that used to smile at her, can see the tension in strong arms that once held her close, the hot burn of tears lining her vision as he too steps closer, edging away the distance between them. Why doesn't he recognize her? Why hasn't he thrown down his bow and kissed her till their breath ran dry? Why is he...he doesn't know who she is. The urge to crumble flourishes at the realization. It's the wish realm. A realm where no one is who they are in Storybrooke. It's a false creation. A life where they haven''t met, where she ran away from him at the tavern, he doesn't even know who she is, who  _they_ are.

She see's it. The edging line of black ink on his forearm. The prophecy she was so afraid, had only tasted it for a less than a year, lived with the inkling of what love was, what happiness was. It's not him. But it is him. The confliction runs tumultuously through her as Emma screams they have to go, and they do, they need to get home, but it's him. It's her Robin. Kind of. But everything about him, it tugs her further away from their escape, closer to him, she needs him. Needs to talk to him, regardless of his unknowing stare, confused look and drawn arrow, pointedly at her once more.

She just needs a moment with him.

"M'lady."

She tenses hard at the lost affectionate nickname as the memories crash about her mind;  _M'lady you're injured. Apologies M'lady. His extended hand in rescue in the alternate universe with the Evil Snow. M'lady, M'lady, M'lady….._

"I should have you know, I don't intend on letting this arrow loose, but I won't ask again. Your jewelry." He motions down to her hands, locked in fists by her sides. It should scare her, walking up to an armed man who has no idea who she is, who is obviously not quite the man she remembers, but the fear is nowhere, not a scant inch bubbles in her gut. His eyes frown at her continuing apprehensive approach she can't help but step forward with and it's there, pine, and fresh rain, it coats her like a warm hug, he still smells like forest.

The point of his arrow presses into the wool of her coat, and his eyebrow arches, "You're quite brave aren't you?"

Is she? Is this bravery? Being sucked towards him like this. Unable to control the urge to be near him when he has no clue who she is? Well, bravery be damned, and apparently self control over her tears that now drip warm on to wind blown cold cheeks. He softens at that. Seeing her cry. He didn't really mean to frighten them, just needs to pawn off some gold so he can buy some food for the Merry Men.

And yet.

There is something strange about her. Something in her wet shining eyes that has his bow lowering uncharacteristically, he's seen her eyes before. Where he cannot place, but they are a beautiful color of warm chocolate, flecked with gold around her irises, and if he is being openly blunt, well, they are the most stunning eyes he's ever seen,  _she_  is the most stunning woman he's ever seen. But he has seen her before, she seems so familiar, his heart apparently agreeing as it thumps erratically in his chest.

He's heard of love at first sight, though has never encountered the phenomenon before, and yet is partial to believe that maybe he is experiencing it for the first time.

"You're not from around here are you?" He questions, with his weapon now hanging beside him, heart clenching at her shaky intake of breath, and she looks scared, or rather anxiously timid as her eyes scan his face, down his body, lingering on his right forearm for a moment. He wants to touch her, reach out the small distance between them and link their hands together, promise he won't hurt her, has this sudden urge to protect her, to hold her, kiss the red plump lips her white teeth bite down into. Who is she though?

He needs to know, needs to quell the strange sense of deja vu flooding him in a tidal wave, "Have we met before?"

Regina smiles at that, and Robin feels deliciously warm from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair, she's got a gorgeous smile, meek as it may be.

"Because forgive M'lady, but, I doubt I'd ever forget meeting you."

She beams, through tears, and Robin has no doubt, maybe he's found the one his soul has been searching for.


	27. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Honour of Fluffy Christmas, we are going to go with The Things I Love About You, Outlaw Queen Style.
> 
> Enjoy! & Merry Christmas
> 
> xox.

 

 

**1: Hands**

He likes to hold her hand, walking side by side, between the multi-colored lit streets, through the dense green forest, across the docks, and along the sidewalks. He relishes the feeling of her fingers laced between his own, covered in wool gloves, but he can still feel the warmth that radiates from her palm. They are a splendor, her hands. Soft and slim, supple skin, and perfectly rounded nails, usually bare from color, save for the deep plum on special occasions, he most definitely likes that hue on her.

They house power of the utmost peak, can render villains silent, and burn forests with a flick. He's seen them wield fire and ice, electricity and thunder, these small delicate hands he cherishes so much. Ten thin fingers that curl in beckoning, of which he always answers, slender digits that stroke through curly unruly brown curls during bedtime, stir and layer ingredients till perfection, and slap away thieving hands attempting to poach from the bowl too early.

There is nothing quite like the feeling of a dull scratch at the base of his skull in the morning, a gentle rousing, soft and affectionate. And yet, the hard lines they draw down his back, clinging to sweaty shoulder blades, and gripping against his backside, that feeling is also hard to out do.

A small scar lines the inside middle finger on the right side, a slip of a knife when she was first learning to cook in this world, another on her pinky, below the knuckle, from something she can't quite recall. Three beauty marks line the space between thumb and pointer, a simply delicate line between, another on her left wrist, hidden by sleeves most of time. He likes them, these dark soft pinpointed marks on her skin, her own little personal constellation. There's yet to be a day he hasn't kissed her knuckles, once when the sun rises, the second, when it falls and the moon follows, a silent vow to never leave her side, not ever again.

He's felt the fearful trembling within them when things seem far to hopeless to overcome, watches the way they tense and clench tight, knuckles white, nails biting into soft skin, a desperate way to edge away the anger and frustration when her voice won't allow an outburst. He's held them, cold, sweaty and shaking when panic arises, the thought  _what would I do if I lost you,_ a constant passing thought between them. It's happened before, far too many times than seem just, the horrible sensation of her fingertips leaving his, the last flicker of electricity pulsing before everything goes numb and he watches her fade away.

He dreamt of her hands, how they should have been locked into his own on empty days, felt them press against his lips when she decided that was enough talking when more pleasureable activities surely awaited. The bitterness of sweet memories flooding him every day he was without her, how they'd curl around his shoulders holding him tight, scratch against his stubble before she kissed him, and tousle his hair playfully after a shower.

It's amazing the things he'd missed once they were gone. Obviously there had been bigger things, more apparent ones, but this, the feeling of walking down the street with her as snowflakes glide through the sky, nestling in white blankets against their scarves, her head against his shoulder, sighing happy, an easy smile lingering on her lips, and her hand clasped within his own, where it rightfully belongs.

It's one of the things he loves about her most, how she loves to hold his hand, for he does too, possibly even more so somehow, now that there is a simple diamond ring scratching softly against his fingers, a promise for many more days of hand holding to come.

* * *

 

**2: His Eyes**

They change color, his eyes.

Some days they are bluer than the afternoon sky in winter, when he is bright and full of adventure, they sparkle, with wonderment and mischief. Like when she watches him run about the backyard with their boys, bubbling laughter through plastic arrow wars, diving into bushes and behind trees. Or how he thinks his footsteps are lighter than what her ears can pick up, his pride as a notorious shadow thief and all, as he slinks closer to her from behind, wrapping her up right in his arms and spinning so they are chest to chest, close enough he can affection her lips for a moment far too short. And she lets him, soaks in the dazzling intensity of blue before giving in to him.

Some days when the world weighs heavy, they are dark navy gray, glowering and stormy through a hard set stare she can't seem to break him out of. Those are the worst, when the bright happiness fades into overwhelming simmering resentful anger, all within his eyes that simply glare outside, cursing the world for all the unfairness that it brings, the pain and suffering of loss, betrayal, the never ending fear of being pulled apart again.

Other days they almost could be emerald green, a brilliant low burning glow, catching gold specks in the light if she looks close enough, moments when he is caught deep in quizzical thought, and she finds herself wondering about his wonder. The curiosity that plagues his mind, whether he is trying to make sense of this modern world, or simply looking at her in disbelief that she has chosen to love him.

The morning brings a light smokey color to the ocean hue, sleepy waves that slowly get blinked away. The nights usually a darker sapphire, riddled with lust and want, that sparkle of mischief pulses out as he shifts, lowers and grinds. She can't actually decide which one she likes more, the smile the grows when smokey blue meet chocolate brown with the rising sun, or the drowning cobalt desire that sends them off the peak late into the night.

It used to catch her off guard, the ever changing spectrum of irises, was unnerving before she could tell what color meant what. But something is always there, regardless of the hue that swirls within, every time her eyes catch his, her heart skips about with butterfly wings, because she can see it, the honest devotion that lay in his beautiful gaze, devotion just for her, not for the Queen, or even the Mayor, but just for Regina, just for simple her. She loves his eyes, but in truth, she just loves him.

* * *

 

**3: Her Laugh**

The first time he heard it, it was barely above a whisper, behind walls of books that muffled the sound, the glorious heart thundering sound, echoing in his soul. For days he sought it out again, desperate in need to hear it ring through the walls once more, and yet it alluded him, the corridors silent in his search. It almost appears, it rare moments, usually accompanied by his son, a small parting that escapes ever so quietly, quickly tamped down when another intrudes into the moment.

The second time he was graced with the sound, it was from his own doing, a rogue arrow lodged into the cape behind him, dastardly poking him in the back as he swirled and twirled in frenzied attempt to get it loose, less he make more a fool of himself in front of her. And yet. It had all been worth it in the end, looking like a complete incompetent idiot all for her amusement, and there it was, a soft chuckle that head his heart swelling three times in size. If a fool she needed, then a fool he would be.

It began to happen more often, in moments spared between just the two of them, his ventures into complimenting everything about her, the eyes that held him captive, the small shy smile, the unabashed comments about the way her body has him mesmerized, how he finds the sharp remarks at the naive couple rather endearing. Slowly by slowly she lets him in and he gets to hear it more and more and wishes to the stars late at night he will be allowed to hear it come the morning.

To be fair, the missing year didn't bring her much happiness, and her laugh was a rarity at best, but when they had figured out how to get  _home_  as she called it, it echoed through the chambers, between thick droplets of disbelieving tears that there was a possibility she'd actually get to see her son again, he heard it, full and pure, and that was when he knew he loved her, honestly loved her.

Memories erased, and the new surroundings were difficult to deal with, the unknown of what happened, but in his nights laying in a tent, beneath the bright moon, he'd listen to it, this whisper of a noise, cemented somewhere deep in his mind, soothing his worried soul. And then he saw her, and the world tilted on it's axis, centering around her smile, gravity altered, tugging him straight into her space, and he heard it, a quiet vibration between flirtation in a dusty farmhouse, and his heart stopped.

He found the reason behind the constant lingering sound in his mind, and it was even more beautiful in reality.

And it's time like right now, when he is leaning against a wooden doorway with a mug of warm steaming coffee in his hands, watching as she curls over on the sofa, unable to catch her breath, tears lining her eyes, and she laughs, and laughs, listening to the chatter between their boys on the carpet in front, and he feels something deep in his core shake unsteadily steady. It may have taken more than a year, a few villains, and some major bumps in their road, but they've done it, together, as promised, and he now gets to revel for the rest of his days in one of his favorite things in any realm he's found her, the way she laughs.

FIN.

* * *

 

**4: THE LITTLE THINGS YOU DO**

It's like the cup of coffee that is always waiting on the counter in the kitchen when the early hours of morning break, warm and creamy but with no sugar, just sitting there for her when she is ready. Or the fact he lines their toothbrushes up side by side on the vanity, symmetrical in place, because it's how she likes them. All these small little things he does, bringing her lunch when times runs too short and he knows she hasn't eaten. The fact he's mustered up the will to learn how to text, technology confusion be damned, this was something he needed to know how to do, so she doesn't go a morning without a small message from him, a small something, that he wishes she is having a good day, hopes the Charmings aren't bugging her too terribly, that he can't wait till she gets home later on, or simply, that he loves her.

She finds it adorable, his chest puffs out and his arms tense slightly, when another man appraises her looks, his hand firmly finding her own, out of a hint of jealously, masked by fierce protection. Appreciates it far more than she can express that he doesn't feel the need to possess, just support with a small shield, knowing damn well she can take care of herself, but why should she have to anymore when he is around?

Her heart thumps happily, when she hears a chair lightly scraping the kitchen floor in the midnight hour when sleep eludes her, and she finds him sitting there, eyes still far too sleepy, but a smile none the less when she curls into his awaiting lap. And he listens, to every word she rants with, thumbing lightly across the exposed slice of skin on her waist, playing devil's advocate in moments where she knows she is getting too hot headed, and huffs aggravatedly when she is being too gentle in others. It's how he levels her, keeps perspective, and helps them both wade through the waters, together. She's not had someone like this before, to be her sounding board, take in what ails her most, heal what he can, and find the cure for those he can't do alone.

Then there are the times, she finds herself being surprised with dinner, a secret date, or a small delicately wrapped gift, because it is the anniversary of the first time he saw her, the first time he knew he loved her, the first time she said it back, all these seemingly forgotten about moments, suddenly the most important thing in her day, all for the fact that he makes them important, makes her important. Showing up unexpected at the office just for a quick kiss before he is off again, hanging her clothes in the closet by color coordination because he knows the little ticks that get her going. Loves how he finds to reason to not be touching her at all times, or fall asleep on her chest with a low slung blanket about his hips, snoring heavy in her arms where he is safe.

She adores how he flops down onto the bed, pillow flying into her lap first, before he settles, and silently begs for her nails to scratch against his scalp, making it feel like he could purr. The evenings around drinks when he get's that ridiculous dopey grin on his face, shrugging off the jests and jibes thrown his way as he stares at her, tells her and everyone around that she is beautiful, and he loves her, and she blushes every time, rolls her eyes, but always says it back, though the inevitable roasting follows. But he makes her feel loved, even in a group of hundreds or just the two of them curled up beneath the covers, it's there, in the way his fingers trace across her face, the honesty in his eyes, and his need to hold her close when sleep eventually takes over, she feels just how much he cherishes her.

It's the little things, like how he comes back into the living room after an argument he's clearly lost, sheepish and pouting, the proverbial child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, slides in beside her on the sofa, and buries his face into the crook of her neck, purposefully tickling her skin with his beard till she gives in, he asks for forgiveness, and promises to make it up to her through a muffled whisper in her hair.

Even how silly he makes himself look, involuntarily when she catches him bouncing along to a song completely off rhythm, and apparently doesn't care when he's been caught, just jives over to her as she chuckles, spins her about and into his arms, so they can dance together.

He makes her feel happy, and goofy, and all light and bubbly in the deepest crevasses.

She especially appreciates how his fingers always tend to find the knots in her neck after a long day, gently rub and soothe till she is loose limbed and jelly filled, proceeds to scoop her up into his arms and deposit her gently on their bed, incessant she needs a few minutes of shut eye, though she denies it, he sits on the mattress, curling and carding through her hair till she gives in and sleep takes over, and is there an hour later to wake her up with soft affectionate kisses to the expanse of her face.

Or like right now, when the snow is falling thick and she forgot to grab her coat this morning, not exactly thinking a flurry was about to hit, and he just shrugs off his coat, wraps it around her shoulders even if she protests, half-heartedly, because his coat is so warm, and smells like him, and makes her feel all small and dainty, his arm wrapping around her waist and holding her close as they walk slowly back home. She asks him more than once if he is cold, given that his scarf is now wrapped around her as well, but he just smiles, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and continues on their path, and she loves him just a little bit more every time he does one of these silly little things, things he probably doesn't even realize he is doing, or how much she truly adores him for it.

 


	28. Christmas Stocking

 

She's had 32 Christmases in this realm, 18 by herself, and 14 with Henry, and they've been wonderful for the most part, when the fear of saviours and curse breaking wasn't looming around her, they actually didn't celebrate Christmas in the missing year, well she didn't, not really, and they were in neverland trying to find her son the Christmas before, so really it's been 12 wonderful holidays spent together.

There are certain parts of Christmas traditions she loves, decorating a tree, all twinkling bright lights, and perfectly hung colorful balls, reflecting onto the white mansion walls. She's a massive fan of garland, surprisingly, but every inch she can string the stuff onto, it's there, up the stair banister, over the fireplace, framing windows, she's a touch garland obsessive, but no one is going to tell her it's a bit much.

When Henry was younger, she adored the process of Christmas baking, has three ridiculously large books filled with recipes, and there is a small lick of pride that runs through her to the fact she's nearly perfected every single one. Gingerbread cookies are Henry's favorite, she is partial to mint chocolate thins, but won't say too a well layered nanaimo bar, and used to play fight with Henry over the peanut butter oreo cookie crumble squares.

So yes, there are definitely certain aspects to Christmas she adores, almost all of them except for one. Stockings. She loathes them. Well not them, just hers. Henry's is perfect, identical to her own, but there is just something about filling it every year with tiny little trinkets she know's he'll love. It's been a mission, for years, to ensure that his stocking it full, bursting to the seams, stuffed to the brim, and she melts watching him dig through all the small goodies, little lego's, a comic book, action figures, candy, chocolate, all of it, he loves it all, brandishes around like it's the greatest gift in the world.

But her own stocking, well, being a single mother with a young child doesn't exactly equate to a full personal stocking. It's not like Santa slides down the chimney just to fill hers. And it's pointless really, to go to the store, and buy herself little treasures, just to put them in her own stocking, and pretend to be all excited the next morning with Henry, as she pulls out self-gift after self-gift. The magic isn't there. There is no excitement in her own stocking.

For years, she would just fill it with things she already had around the house, a few pieces of jewelry from upstairs, some old lipsticks, a chocolate bar from the fridge, dumb things that Henry wouldn't even notice were already hers. Most years she just wishes she didn't have to do it, feel the obvious empty hollow hole in her heart that it was just her and Henry, not that she didn't love her son with her entire being, but still, for 12 Christmas's there always felt like a space beside her was missing.

And it's so different this time around, there is a bigger tree, more lights and baubles decorating it, the need to make extra cookies for she lives with three adorable thieves now, more presents to wrap, mistletoe hung for the first time now that she has sometime to kiss underneath it, and four stockings hanging side by side instead of two. They've explained Christmas to Robin and Roland, at least this world's' version of it, and they have taken to it like elves in Santa's workshop. Everything's magic to them, from the gingerbread houses, to paper cut out snowflakes, ribbon and bows laced together perfectly, and every holiday song they've heard, they are astounded by it, and it's made this holiday seem just a bit brighter, a bit lovelier.

It's another beautiful Christmas Eve as she walks through the house, admiring their decorations, chuckling at the size of their tree, living with forest boys surely has changed many things in the mansion. She see's Henry and Robin bent over the island in hushed conversation, her thief smirking as his hand runs through tousled hair, Henry's eyes dead set to his as they shake hands and part with a nod.

"What was that about?" She eyes Robin up, as Henry scoots out the other kitchen door. Robin jumps, turning quickly at the sound of her voice, smiling bright and tugging her into his arms, "Nothing my love, just boy talk."

"Is everything alright?"

"Better than ever."

He's hiding something, she can see it in his blue eyes, the mischief that sparkles within them, but his fingers are playing with her hair on the nape of her neck, massaging lightly, and it feels so good she could purr, decides in the moment that as long as no one is in trouble she can fold herself into his embrace, does so, and lets him sway her back and forth slightly.

"Roland is asleep yeah?"

She hums, brushing her nose along the warm of his skin in the crook of his neck, inhaling the spiced woodsy flavour of him, "Out like a light."

"He's quite excited for Santa tomorrow."

"As he should be."

"You spoiled him, you know."

Regina shrugs, closing her eyes, focusing on the way his hands run up and down her back, the light christmas music from the den singing quietly out, and maybe she has spoiled them this year, if the amount of wrapped gifts under the tree is any indication all the shops in storybrooke should be empty thanks to the mayor's shopping list, but who cares, certainly not her, and clearly not Roland and Henry who are vibrating in excitement over Christmas morning to come, and she has clearly seen the amusement in Robin's eyes, the curiosity as she shoos him out the room to wrap his gifts.

"We should do the stockings." She mumbles, not really ready to relinquish their position, but it's late and she is tired, has a  _special_  gift for Robin to unwrap upstairs, and if they don't get a move on, she is going to fall asleep before they can even get started. He seems to understand, feel her exhaustion as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to her temple, "Why don't you go to sleep and I'll do them."

"I'm fine, honestly, let's go, you have an early present upstairs to get to."

She smiles as Robin pulls back, confused until she stands up on her tip toes, brushing her lips lightly across his own, grinning as he follows her mouth when she leans back.

"Stockings first…then you can unwrap your present."

"Is my present you by chance?"

"Maybe."

He groans, dips down to find the soft skin behind her ear with his lips, "Is it red?"

"It might be." She swallows as his hands grip tighter around her waist.

"Silk or lace?"

"Both."

She loves this, how much she can rile him up with a few choice words and well purchased pieces of lingerie, "and a bow."

"What?"

"Well I told you that I was your present, but you still have to unwrap me."

His eyes flash dark, "Stockings now." He slaps her behind, grinning at the little squeal that escaped before her eyes roll, pushing herself off him, "Come on thief." They've decided to fill the boy's stockings together, and each others alone, much to Robin's request, and it's the first time she won't know what's in her own stocking come morning, and the way he'd smiled and slipped away with the red velvet ornament had her stomach swirling with butterflies.

And it's with that, Robin and her two boys' stockings full, she slips upstairs, undressing from today, and dressing back into something more  _festive_ , for her lover. He's not far behind her, and they are melted into each other within moments.

.

..

.

Christmas morning brings a lingering tingle in her thighs, and a very happy sleep grin on Robin's face as she kisses him awake, they have pancakes to make. It's no sooner that he has rolled her over that they hear the commotion of children outside their door, hollering for them to get up, because "it's Christmas!", and "Santa came!", and they "have to wake up!". Robin goes first, grumbling about that he should have asked for an extra hour in bed for Christmas, and she chuckles, promising she'll make it up to him later, following him into the bathroom before heading down the stairs, and she freezes.

Where four stockings had been hung the night before, there is now three large ones full to the brim, and 32 little ones, tiny red velvet miniatures strug about her fireplace, all with her name embroidered on the white stitching, and a number beside.

"Merry Christmas my love." Robin's arms wrap around her waist, as she figures out how to breathe again, leaning back into him heavy, bewildered.

"I don't understand. What is all this?"

He kisses her cheek gently, nuzzling into her hair with a happy hum, "Well Henry mentioned that you have never had a stocking."

She frowns, turning slightly to find his eyes, "I had one every year with him…"

"Because you gave yourself one. From what I understand, you have never had a stocking given to you."

"Henry knew?"

"He's a perceptive lad."

Her heart half sinks at the realization she hadn't really fooled him, and half soars at just how much she loves her family. "So, he and I, with the help of a little merry man, we have rectified that."

"You gave me 32 stockings?"

"For every year I wasn't here to give you one, with a gift in each."

"You didn't have to do that." She flushes, because it's far too much, to do all this for her, when Christmas is supposed to be for them

"I know." Robin squeezes his arms tighter around her, hugging her back into his chest, "That's why I did. I wanted to make your Christmas just as special as you've made ours."

She melts, "Robin."

"I just wish you to be happy my love, always."

And when all 32 little red stockings are placed around her, she doesn't find herself really going through them, did obviously, had wiped away tears and smiled bright with each and every little surprise deposited inside, but it stirs in the pit of her stomach, as she watches her family digging through their own, and it feels so different this time, maybe because for the first time, Christmas feels right, no more vacant empty spaces beside her, and maybe, after this year, stockings will be added to her list of loveable traditions, something new and unexpected that makes her truly and honestly happy.


	29. Queen's Don't Snuggle.

 

Robin is a man of the forest, has been his entire life, born in the summer and bred through the winter. Knows how to weather the storms, pull a fire together in the midst of thunder showers, and understands which fur or foliage provides the best warmth and insulation on the long chilled frosty nights. There isn't much that can truly shake him, no weather pattern sent that sends shivers along his skin, freezes his digits and ices his lungs. He's warm blooded, a personal furnace against the elements.

And it appears, he is no longer a space heater for one any longer. Hasn't been for quite some time since a certain Queen fell from the sky and landed in the middle of his heart. She will deny it to her dying day, she is not a cuddler, but Robin knows better. He loves feeling her body inch closer to his under a thicket of covers, her hands curling up his chest, toes tucking between his calves, the heavy breath that follows as she sinks into his heat, cozy and happy. And still she insists she is not a snuggle type, doesn't mind a bit of touching, but that's it. He has his side of the bed, and she has hers.

And usually it starts off that way, he watches silently as she thumbs through a book, glasses resting low on her nose, a lip caught between teeth when things are getting interesting in the plot, knees hiked up to her chest, hair loosely hung around her shoulders. She's a picture to him. Some nights he will nuzzle in close, leaning his head against her shoulder, rubbing a hand along the expanse of her exposed thigh, a moment of thanks to the gods sent for the  _sleep wear_ , his love slips into at night. She lets him, sinks down a bit lower so he can curls an arm around her waist under the covers, combs through his tousled sandy brown hair till he is near dead asleep in her lap and then she shifts, gently rolling him over to his own pillow, before huddling down into hers.

Because she isn't a cuddler. Queen's don't cuddle. Mayors don't cuddle. And Regina most certainly is not a cuddler. It's become a running joke around their house now. She denies and he proclaims. Like now, sitting around the fireplace, he is shaking his head with a chuckle, brushing back her hair as she stares incredulously at him.

"I was not using you as a blanket, Robin."

"My love, I beg to differ."

"So I rolled over in my sleep and was closer to you."

"Regina, you were laying across me."

"No I wasn't!"

He laughs again, pressing a kiss to her cheek though she scowls anyway. It's not a big deal, that she refuses to admit he is her heater at night. It's perfectly fine during the day that she snuggles up to him, lets his warmth wrap her up like a hug, uses his stomach as a warming pad for her chilled fingers, presses a frozen nose into the crook of his neck. He's not entirely sure why the night admission has to be any different. It's not like he cares, in complete honesty, he prefers it when she is tucked into him, lying half across his chest, a leg between his own, arm over his collar, face buried into his pillow. He likes feeling her.

"Why does it matter if we cuddle at night or not?"

"Because I don't do that. I have never been one for it."

"Regina." He arches pointedly at her.

"Robin." She deftly scowls back.

It's fine. He knows she will refute in the day, and slink over to him later tonight when she is asleep.

"Maybe you're the one who cuddles."

"And you just let me?"

Regina rolls her eyes, sipping the spiced whiskey, tucking the blanket between her thighs as her back rests against his chest.

"Perhaps you're afraid of the dark, I am simply protecting you."

"From the boogeyman under the bed?"

"It's possible."

His arms curl around her waist, settling her in a fraction closer, "Is this a double front of sorts? Your way of telling me your scared of monsters in the closet and I am being used as a shield."

Regina snorts, "As if." but lets his legs hug the outside of her own, and there it is, her little cocoon he creates that she slumbers within. "Perchance it is because you are always ungodly cold and I am the only way to keep you from getting hypothermia?"

"I'm not always cold."

"Love, your toes, cute as they may be, are like ice cubes at best."

She huffs her feet under the cushion, because they are tingling from the cold, and her apparently god awful circulation, and that's not her fault that being close to Robin is like clutching to a hot water bottle when deserted in the arctic.

"Just admit that you like to cuddle me at night."

"Never."

He can hear her grinning, and it doesn't matter, he has a plan to put this whole thing to rest once and for all, so for now he lets it go, swallows down his own whiskey and settles in the couch, letting the light christmas melody jingle out from the den. He has to admit, she looks stunning bathed in the sparkle of christmas lights on the tree, it makes her skin glow and eyes shine, and Robin is a complete sucker for her.

"We should go to bed. The boys will be up early tomorrow."

She nods, nestling into him for a moment, before letting a breath go that blows out the fire with her magic, and he follows her from the steps, down the hall and into their room, watches enamoured as she changes from a purple blouse and black pencil skirt, into a dark midnight blue slip, leaving majority of her olive skin open for his perusal. "You know, if you wore warmer clothes to bed perhaps you wouldn't feel the need to  _not_ snuggle me." He grins, that dumb stupid grin she adores, his shirt and pants now shed, leaving him in only black briefs as he climbs underneath the covers.

"Somehow I don't think a flannel onesie would be very sexy."

"I don't know, I think you'd look lovely in polar fleece."

She leans over, kisses him goodnight, and curls over into her side of the bed, sighing sleepily.

"I'm here when you get chilly."

"Shut up and go to sleep Thief."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

He waits for a good part of an hour, biting back his smile as he feels the first movement from her, a tiny little slide closer, her fingers grazing his forearm, and he knows come morning, his pillow and his body heat will be shared.

.

..

…

He wakes up, at the crack of dawn, bursting at the seams that he was right, as per usual with this, and Regina is completely slung across him, breathing heavy into his skin, arms completely wrapped about his shoulders, a leg squeezed between his own, her body leaching his heat.

Perfect.

Fumbling quietly for a moment, his eyes cast down as he grasps his phone, a smirk pulling across as she barely moves, sinks even further down if that was possible. And it's all the proof he needs, angling the phone camera up above the bed, ensuring he gets the entirety of her "not snuggling" with a cheeky smile himself. For a second, he stares at the photo, and his heart skips about like wildfire, because she is beautiful and he looks far too happy in the picture. Sliding it back onto his nightstand, his fingers comb through her hair and he lets himself indulge in a few more hours of sleep before the chaos of another day starts.

He has evidence now.

.

..

...

Regina stirs, brushing her nose along his shoulder, shifting slightly so her back can pop and release, as she blinks sleepily one, twice, three times, and thank god he is still asleep and hasn't realized the fact she is completely invading his space...again...like every single damn night. It's not that she cares, but for whatever deep seeded reason, it taunts her, this incessant need to be close to him, to hold and touch him at all times, even in her sleep, it makes her feel far too dependant, vulnerable, something she has tried to avoid her entire life.

And yet, efforts be damned, here she is again, shuffling back a few inches so he won't wake with her laying ontop of him, and she can keep a shred of dignity she knows she doesn't actually need, at least not with him. He's told her a hundred times, he likes to cuddle her, to be her "big spoon" as he has heard on television shows, wants to feel her pressed up against him, but she just rolls her eyes, and deflects the insinuations.

His phone buzzes, and he looks so damn serene and peaceful she is loathe to let anyone but herself wake him right now. It's saturday, they can call back later. Moving slowly, she reaches across him, thumbing off the light ringing, and the device opens, and her heart stills.

He took a picture. Bloody outlaw. And she could be irritated, but the smile plastered on his face in the photo has her stomach flipping about in butterflies and her own smile tugging at her lips. True to his word and her own knowledge, she is sandwiched into him, her face nearly shielded by a curtain of hair, tucked into his neck, arms curled about his torso, half his body covered by her own. She loves this frozen moment in time of them, wants to kiss him silly for capturing it, but he is going to blackmail her with it, prove that she in fact does use and abuse his heat at night, though they both know she just likes being near him, temperature be damned. Her palm ghosts over top the phone, letting a purple puff bloom and disintegrate. She lays the phone back down on his side table, and slides off the bed and into the bathroom.

It's not till she is down in the kitchen making coffee that she hears him, well feels his arms wrap about her first, and then his low timbered voice tickling against her cheek as he bids her good morning with a kiss, and settles into the chair with a mug in hand. He is looking at her curiously, amused at something.

"What?"

"You erased the picture."

Oh Damn, he figured that out already did he? Well, he can't prove it. "I have no idea what you are talking about." She smirks, turning back to the pancakes, flipping them over, mentally high fiving herself for the golden browned outside that appears. She hears the chair slide across the wood floors, his showered fresh pine smell invading her once more as he leans against the counter. She's not going to give in, no matter how cute his dimpled handsome face is.

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"You don't have to admit it."

"I have nothing to admit."

He laughs, kisses her cheek, and turns to walk out the kitchen, and she flourishes because she won, there is no photo evidence of her snuggling him, he can't prove it, and she comes out on top. Her own phone rings beside her, and it's Henry, which is odd, because he should be upstairs still asleep, not texting her at 8 in the morning on a Saturday. She punches her passcode in quickly, thumbs about to find his text, and -  _That idiot._

It's under a smiley face emoji, and a ridiculous message about how "he knew she was a cuddler." and the picture Robin took this morning, the evidence and proof, staring back up at her. His chuckle from behind her has her spinning around, glaring heatedly, spatula in hand, not exactly a menacing tool, but there is no time for that.

She glowers, stalking towards him, pancake batter dripping from her utensil, and he just stands there, smiling, arms crossed over his chest. "You sent it to Henry."

His smile brightens, his teeth biting down into his lip, in a way that swells this urge inside her to pluck it out with her own teeth and kiss him senseless, but now it not the time, she has an  _Evil_  scowl to work on. One which apparently has lost all it's gusto as he simply grins and shrugs, "Well, I simply know you better than you think."

"What's that supposed to mean." She steps into his space, toe to toe, arched eyebrow and all.

"I knew you'd delete the photo the second you saw it, I had to text it out before it was erased."

His cheek is smacked with batter, cold and sticky, his  _Hey!_ gone completely unanswered as she pokes him in the chest, "You're an idiot."

"Ah, but I am an idiot who has outsmarted the Queen."

"I hate you." She grumbles as his finger swipes through the white substance on his cheek, bopping her affectionately on the nose, and she looks adorable, trying her best to scowl at him whilst holding her plastic weapon and pancake battered nose.

"I think you rather adore me." He kisses off the breakfast smear, and goes to get dressed, smiling the whole way.

"Robin?"

"Yes, My Love."

"You said text it out…"

He is about to answer, when her phone buzzes again, and she is going to kill him when Snow White's name appears...and so does that bloody photo, with six little hearts attached an a nauseating " _awwwww she's so cute_." lining the bottom.

He's dead meat.

Or at least would be, if she didn't love him and need her nightly furnace...and her beloved however apparently not to secret big spoon. Whatever, at least he doesn't know she likes to listen to him sing in the shower yet.


	30. Rain Wash

Well, he's never claimed that living in the forest doesn't have it's own setbacks, minor ones, but ones that are much more apparent in this new world, where snow freezes over the lakes and ices the rivers. It wouldn't be an issue in the Enchanted Forest or Sherwood, it never got cold enough there for this to be a problem. So when he slowly makes his way up to the pristine white mansion, with it's white walls, white carpet, white couch, an absolute magnet for the sludge dark brown dirt that clings to his shoes and pants currently, it's with hesitation that he approaches.

And it's not really his fault, as his hands do their best to bat away the grime, but the sudden unexpected flurry of snow had completely eradicated the lake they'd been using as a wash basin back at the Merry Men's camp, stealing their way of cleaning, hence, his rather dirty appearance currently. He's never quite felt more out of place than he does right now, as he rings the doorbell and prays to the high gods that she won't mind. She will. He knows she will. But still he prays.

The door swings open, and her smile falters for only a second as she takes him in, and then it's back, and she looks almost giddy and amused, arching a thin eyebrow high as she chews on her lower lip, biting back a laugh he hadn't seen coming. Irritation, or exasperation was more where his mind was headed, but she is beaming at him, bright and bubbling, his heart fluttering about merrily in his chest as she slides closer, leaning on her tip toes, fingertips pressed against his chest, leaving ample space between his muddy shirt and pants and her pristine tailored silk blouse and skirt, but close enough to press a sweet kiss hello to his lips and he can't honestly help but grin back at her, reveling in the honey apple smell that seems to cling to her skin, a stark contrast to the stale grit he is certain hugs him tight.

Her voice is smooth, silk and warm against his lips as she mumbles "Run out of water in the forest, Thief?"

He snorts, shakes his head, replies honestly "The lake froze over." and kisses her once more before she steps back, a light flush on her cheeks, pink and pretty. With a happy hum and nods the white wooden swings further open, allowing his disheveled self inside the immaculate mansion, "Boots outside Locksley." She smirks, sways her hips just a little extra, knowing his eyes will follow.

And he does, watches the way her calves flex underneath sheer black tights, roaming up the skirt that clings sinfully around her body and is a bit confused when his eyes follow her to the stairs instead of the kitchen or couch like he'd assumed they'd be spending their afternoon in. But no matter, he shucks off his dirt spattered shoes and closes the door behind him. She is halfway up the steps, back to him, though her head is tilted enough to arch a mischievous eyebrow at him, and he has always like mischief.

He's only been in her room a handful of times, they are still new to this whole soulmate relationship thing, and while he is quite confident there is none other he is willing to even gander at, he wants to ensure there is no pressure for her. They go at her pace, let the reins be in her hands, though he is there every step, just in case she needs some reassurance. So yes, he's been in her bedchambers, is a happy camper every time she allows him in and between the silk sheets, the current situation no different as his feet hit the plush crystal white carpet. But he doesn't find her deposited on the expansive mattress per his last few times here, nor on the cream and ruby chaise in the corner he has grown rather fond of, given the unique angle he can acquire on his knees and her laying down.

"Come on grubby."

He hears her call from the bathroom, a sanctuary he has yet to venture into, and it's larger than anticipated, a white granite vanity, with a massive silver bordered mirror, all her dainty colored bottles, perfectly lined up smallest to largest, a small thing to which he grins over. The tub is across from him, set higher than the white stone floor, golden claw feet, anchoring the colossal basin that surely could fit both of them with a fair bit of space. His throat tightening as he see's her bending over into another stone space, square and wide, granite on all three of its four walls, the later has a glass sheet. It's odd, but he's fascinated by her fiddling with some silver knob before turning back around in that gift from god skirt, smiling in that way that has his stomach flipping in butterflies, a stiffening lower down.

It's when her hands press once again to his chest he realizes he hasn't actually said anything yet, had been a bit too dumbstruck by her beauty and the change in location, and he suddenly feels like a school boy all over again, a flush running through his cheeks, warm and tingly when she looks him in the eyes through those thick lashes. A breathy  _Hi_  is apparently all he can muster, which is ridiculous, but she laughs as he frowns at himself, arching up to her tip toes once more to kiss him gently, her own whispered  _Hi_ , is doing far too many sinful things to his body than a single word should be allowed.

He goes back into dumbstruck mode as she pushes his vest off, hanging it on the door hook, uncurls his scarf, it goes on another hook, and then slowly and torturously she beings to undo his green flannel shirt, button by button, popping the little plastic circles, and all he can do is stare down at her, clenching and flexing his hands at his sides, he doesn't dare touch her still, all he does is watch. Watch as she smiles and hums, bites down on that plump red lip of hers, and slide the shirt off his shoulders, leaving him in just a white undershirt she quickly disposes of as well.

Surely she can feel how quick his heart is beating under her palm that runs along his torso, the thundering pulsing erratic theme it dances to, and she has to know, because she is blushing, which usually only happens when she is focused on how much he loves her, his heart proving that, as words continue to fail him. He can't help but grin at her, as nails trace along his body, between his chest, down the groove that leads low, the V at his hips, her eyes entranced for a steady minute by her wandering exploration. He stills, breath hitches, when she toys with the button of his jeans, sliding it open, and surely she heard his groan that escaped as she tugs his zipper down, unveiling is unrelenting want for her. And he does want her. Terribly so. Achingly so as the denim falls and pools at his feet, her thumbs hooking into the black elastic waistband of his last stitch of clothing, her eyes locking into his, dark and heated, with a greedy smile and arch in her eyebrow as she slides them down, his long exhale matched by her sharp inhale. He swallows hard, she licks her lips, and he thinks he is probably the luckiest sod in the entire world.

"In you go." She pats his bare backside, turns him devastatingly away from her body and into the odd stone and glass area. He pouts, giving his best puppy dog eyes, but she knows his son, and has had one of her own, the sad begging does nothing to her, at least not from him, sometimes, now apparently is one of those times, and she chuckles, swats him one more time, and forces him inside.

It must be some kind of washing station, there is a silver spout the can at least figure is part of it, but there are three more along the wall, a fourth above his head, and that is more than confusing. "This is the tap, left is cold, right is hot, be careful, it's a bit finicky." He frowns at the silver knob, glancing between it and the spouts around him and Regina who leans against the stone side. She must sense his bewilderment.

"It's called a shower."

"A shower?"

"Mhmmm, it's like rain, but it can be warm, and it's faster than a bath."

"Hot Rain? That's different." He smiles sheepishly, because there is so much in this new world that baffles him, too many things to learn and understand, and he isn't exactly the type to let something undiscovered just pass him by, he must know all the inner workings, the tiniest details of the smallest things, and he'd be embarrassed by his over abundant amount of curiosity, but she is there, laughing lightly, kisses his cheek and does her best to answer every who, what, when, where and a thousand and one why's.

He loves her for it. Loves the patience she has with him. But more than that, he loves the little seed of mischief that bubbles to her surface every now and again. He see's that glint, goes to question what she is planning, and then it hits him, warm water, splashing at him from four different angles, his stunned  _Hey!_  muffled out by her giggle, as she shuts the taps off, leaving him standing half soaked, hair matted against his forehead and eyes wide.

"Seemed easy to show you this time rather than explain it." She laughs, and it's a beautiful sound and her eyes are bright and happy, and it has him cracking up alongside. "Okay, just one this time." He nods as her hand swings the tap again and the highest front spout pours out. He lets the water pool in his hands, slip between his fingers, and it's rather incredible.

"How long does it last?"

"The water?"

He nods, stepping into the stream. His question left unanswered which is strange, and when he turns to ask again, he see's her eyes blown wide open, dark and sparkling as she gapes at his body, enthralled by the little lines the water cuts along his shoulders, down his torso, diagonal down his hips and spiralling his thighs. Well at least he isn't the only one affected by the other's presence.

"Regina?"

"What?"

Robin chuckles, dipping his head under the water flow, letting it soak and soothe out tired muscles, "How long do these rain washes last for?" It takes her a half second to find her words, the urge to run her hands down his stomach plaguing her mind instead of helping form a damn sentence. "It uh, it doesn't."

"Never?"

"Huh? No-uh, eventually the hot water tank will run out, but I can shower for a good 30 minutes before that happens."

He hums, chews on the information, and returns to the warmth of the new wonderment he's been introduced to.

"Here."

She hands him a red bottle, and he can't stop the dimples from popping as he smiles playfully at her, "Forest Pine Body Wash? I thought you didn't like my forest smell." She huffs out a breath, swatting his arm that isn't under the water, rolling her eyes though she blushes, "Well it's this or you can smell like apples and honey."

"That's what you use?"

"Mhmm."

"I rather like how you smell."

His comment has heat flooding through her, a lick of sweat pooling behind her neck, and it's not from the shower steam.

"Shut up, and use what I give you."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

There's that flush of heat again, between her thighs and in her stomach, brewing hot and wanting as he grins that stupidly ridiculous heart racing dimpled smile at her, taking the bottle from her hands and squirting a generous amount into his palm, and if she doesn't leave him be she is going to jump him here and now, clothes on herself be damned, they can be dry cleaned. But she really likes this blouse, wants to wear it later, "I'll grab you a towel." she steps back, away from the glorious sex on two legs of a man in her shower right now, and surely she has other shirts she could wear, hell she has magic, with a wave of her palm she could have a second one ready to go.

He could certainly get used to this rain washer, it's a hell of a lot better than running into a chilled lake, scrubbing furiously before skin freezes, no, this is fantastic, he could spend hours in this contraption, sudsing himself up, and rinsing off over and over again, it's - it's her, her hands to be more specific, landing on his back, and if the water is warm, it is nothing compared to the heat that radiates from her as she steps closer, and by the Gods, he is a lucky lucky man, his heart swooping as he feels her press up against him, a mental count in need in order to control himself. And he does, counts to three cause that's really all he can muster when her hands begin to trail around his hips and up his chest, her lips landing on the back of his neck, a hum vibrating through him at the sound of her voice "I take it you like the shower?"

He turns, damn near just about falls down, because she is standing in front of him, hair swung up into a messy clip, body magnificently naked, and it's not like he hasn't had the pleasure of seeing her like this before, but the way the water droplets speckle her skin, land and slide along her curves, it's rendered him speechless, astonished that she isn't a figment of his imagination.

"Here." A purple fluffy thing is passed over her shoulder, followed by a yellow bottle, and he takes them both, squeezes the creamy substance onto the purple mesh, and it smells of apples and honey, and he salivates over it and stares at the shameless seductive smile that etches across her lips, the subtle wink she sends his way.

"You can touch me now."

He gapes at her, feeling the air leave his lungs and blood pool out of his brain, heading due south, as she turn her back to him, perfectly silky smooth olive skin dotted with freckles, his eyes scouring the impeccable sculpture that stands in front of him, his gentleman's chivalry be damned as his eyes drop lower to the rounded backside his fingers itch to grab.

Has he mentioned he's a lucky bastard?

And if he was fond of the rain washer, well, nothing compares to being joined underneath the warm falling water with her.


	31. You Said You Loved HIm Too (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 24 is Part 1

She knew the second it happened. Can pinpoint it down the most finite moment she felt something eternally shift inside her, ice through veins, scalding hot about her heart. A fraction in time there was no breath to be inhaled, only a sharp stab, a blinding pain that engulfed her whole, and just as quickly as it had happened, a cold cool balm soothed every last inch, melting the wound away. Invisible to the eye now, that's all that it would be. A stitched together golden thread on a dark as night heart, that still beneath it all pulsed a dull ruby red, proof that not everything is black and white, that while  _Evil_  may come first in her name, she did the right thing, did a good thing, a selfless thing.

It was hazy as she came back too, blinking at the flickering of orange candle light on the cold stone walls, everything tilted on it's axis as she righted herself from the dusty floor, coughing irritated at the puff of dirt, and the dull throbbing at the back of her skull. Clearly when  _it_  happened, she lost consciousness, not completely unrealistic given what she gave up. Her spine cracked and popped, crunched joints being gratefully set straight upon sitting up, a faint metallic taste coated her tongue. A little warning next time might be nice.

And then she waited. For what seemed like an eternity. Has been waiting in the recessed depths of the vault, behind hidden doors and masked mirrors, the constant twitching in her fingers becoming the only movement inside the stone walls. She promised. Gave her word that if it worked she would bring him here. In a surreal moment of vulnerability she had looked into her own eyes, in the body of another, ones that were so desperate in their need, and let her long standing guard slip, to the only person who truly understood how much effort it took to keep it up. The moment her softer half left, she panicked. Sat, jaw agape on the wooden chest for hours, hand over her thunderous erratic heart, in shock of what she had just done, how exposed and raw she'd let herself stoop down to.

And more times that she will ever admit, she scrambled to her feet, raced up the stone stairs, defiantly ready to take back what was hers, and yet, every time she pushed open the cold hard oak wood doors and saw what lay beyond just to the right, the name emblazoned on the dark silver granite, her feet stopped moving forward, and the Queen retreated back into her hiding.

So she waits. For how long she isn't actually certain. Just stares through the black spiralling mirror into the vacant room just beyond. Everything feels empty. The walls no longer have a fleeting of warmth or strange previous comfort to them. It feels like a jail cell. Perhaps a more luxurious one, what with the fur blankets that adorn a soft mattress, and a fire however cold roaring in the corner, it's a prison nonetheless. One she has put herself into. One she has grown to utterly hate.

Maybe that's why she did it. Offered up a part of her soul in a feeble heart driven attempt that maybe, just maybe, he would walk down those steps one more time. But as the minutes tick by and the earlier prickling in her heart subsides, only loneliness seems to reclaim its space one again. A flare of rage surges through her. What is supposed to happen if it worked? What did she even expect? That he would chose her over her other half? Possibly he would run into her arms instead? Kiss her till her knees went weak and they would vanish together and live what?  _Happily ever after?_ She wants to kick herself for even believing in the notion, a fool's trap. She isn't a fool. Fools do things like this, crazy reaches for hope that isn't there. All for what? For love? Love that surely won't be returned. How could it? She is who she is, and he won't chose her. No one chooses her. Ever.

Her fingers tear at the tiny threads on the hem of her dress, slowly and deliberately pulling the garment at her wrist apart, parting the dark plum silk and black lace till her skin reveals itself. He liked this dress. Had told her many nights ago, as he gently disposed her of it, halting her ravenous appetite to rip it apart just so she could feel him sooner. His hands had closed upon her own, a light vibrating chuckle in the crook of her neck as he whispered his request that he be the one to take it off her. Her skin shivers at the memory. How delicate he undid the laces on her back, dragged the zipper down torturously slow, his lips following the path of newly exposed skin. He said the color brought out her eyes, made them sparkle with flecks of gold, a sentiment she had scoffed at, though her blush was hidden behind a curtain of curls. He'd even laid it gently across her white chaise as she lay back on the bed, squirming impatiently for his attentions, giving her that heart stumbling dimpled smile over words he wished to see her wear it again sometime, it's one of his favourites.

She stares down at the gap between material, suddenly annoyed she had minutely destroyed it. And in the second her palm glows lavender, another odd revelation she'd come to notice the first nights outside Regina's body, a sight that silently made her smile, for maybe it didn't matter they were two separate people,  _Good vs Evil_ , there was still love buried deep down in her heart, an echo pulls her attention from the tattered threads.

It's slow, a steady scratch of granite on stone above her, a flame igniting in her hand, defence at the ready for she is in no mood to be toyed with right now, and she counts, glares at the mirror whilst doing so,  _one, two,_ she rises to her feet,  _three, four,_ the pit of anger boiling in her stomach,  _five, six, sev-_  Oh God. Ice cold water soaks her, extinguishing the fire as her eyes see him. It's him. He is here. Slowly treading into the other room, a hand running over the back of his neck, and her fingers itch to touch him, to thread through his hair, pull him in and if he'd allow it, never let go. Her breath fogs the mirror as her nose grazes the glass, the entirety of her body pressed against the hidden door, and she watches. Stands frozen in hiding as he sighs heavily, walks further into the room, distancing them in his steps as he scours the stone room.

His hands glide over the open storybook on the chest, on a page she knows is there, she was cementing it to memory a few hours prior, a painting of them, in a life that never happened, a path of purity had she not been so afraid that night. A life they had talked about at length, the what if's, the self-bitterness at her own self destruction towards happiness, a loathing he'd kissed away, soothed in his words that it wasn't meant to be, they were meant to meet when fate deemed it right. Her hands press against the door silently, removing the barrier between them, a flicker of fear spiking in her heart, insecurity that stews beneath the surface as she shuffles forward, a half step, his back still turned to her. Her heart thunders in her chest, and certainly he must hear it, he's always been attuned to the rhythm it beats, and if on cue, as she begs it to slow, he shifts, stands a fraction taller, tilts his head slightly to the side, and she can see the hint of a smile hidden beneath the stubble.

It stands still, time, air, her ability to do anything but stare timidly as he turns to face her fully, book still in hand, and his eyes find her own, unfairly beautiful, sky blue, bright as the summer spring rivers, alive and sparkling. He moves, trepidation in each step at first, letting the book rest on the wooden cabinet where her potions lay, and she can't do anything but stand there, rooted to the spot, praying to the Gods, this isn't just a trick of the mind, she's been down here long enough with her own thoughts to go crazy, maybe she is crazy, it seems ridiculous he would come here, to her, she must be losing her mind. Hot tears line the backs of her eyes, a hard lump stuck in her throat as her rigid stance falters, slinks inside her unprotected heart. A traitorous tear falls before she can blink it away, warm and tickling as it slides down her cheek.

It certainly smells like pine, a woody spice she inhales from memory, ever so real as it fills her lungs, if only she could drown in a scent, be lulled to eternal sleep by it, perhaps in death there isn't such solitude and heartache. Her next breath shakes, catches in her throat as a warm palm settles against her cheek, gently wiping away the wet droplet, and if she leans into it or he holds her up, she doesn't really know, it has to be her, he isn't real.

He isn't her-

"Hi."

The sound of his voice, stiffens her spine, and she turns away from his palm, biting back the urge to succumb to this mirage, but her hands move, trembling in their path as they blindly move up, tentatively finding the lining of the thick canvas lapels of his coat, smoothing inside to the soft cotton shirt, his lungs expand in steady breath, and he could be real, this could all be real, it has to be real, it's his heart, pumping solidly underneath her palm. She caves, chokes back an unrefined sob and falls into his arms that wait openly, cradling her into his warmth. There isn't many times she can recall crying, hard like this, unable to breathe or keep her legs from shaking weakly. But he is there, holding her tight, nuzzling into her fallen hair, a hand between her shoulder blades, the other at the base of her neck, thumbing and rolling the tense disbelieving muscles.

"You came."

He sighs, hugs her tighter, presses the softest of kisses into her temple. "You doubted I would?" She nods, barely, but he only pulls her in further, scratching his fingers through her hair, he loved, no loves, her hair, had told her a thousand and one times, and it feels surreal. Like some sort of dream she hopes she won't wake up from, and finally her body seems to register, her arms wrapping around his neck, nose burying into the crook of his neck, forehead resting against the pulse that is thrives just beneath. "I didn't know if you would want to." She admits quietly into his tunic, muffling the incessant shake in her voice. It's at that he steps back, dreadfully so in her own mind, and tips her chin up.

"Hey. Open your eyes."

She hesitates, swallows thickly.

"Let me see you."

Her fingers grip the small lining of hair at his nape, and slowly, ever so slowly, she does as he asked, relinquishes the constant need to control, and gives in, for him, only ever for him. His smile is enough to have her heart splitting into a hundred butterflies, fluttering about her chest, as she finally looks him in the eye, melting in the spot, her wish to be in heels not barefeet debilitating so she can be closer to his height, can look him truly in the eyes, instead of inches below.

"There you are."

It feels suddenly far to vulnerable, to exposed, how she is simply letting him hold her, brush back a fallen curl behind her ears, nothing but silence and the drumming of her heart echoing off the walls. She can't be defenceless, unguarded like this. It's not who she is. The  _Evil Queen_ , that is her persona, her brand, and the Queen doesn't stand lovestruck in the embrace of her previously deceased lover, soulmate, whatever they want to call him. Shaking her head she retracts, pushing gently against his torso, giving a few inches of space between them, needed space so that she can rearrange her jumbled mind, focus on the fact that regardless if he is here, he is not staying. He will leave. And she will be alone. Again. There is no room for weakness. Not now.

Robin frowns, goes to reach for her as she steps back further, huffing out a breath as she straightens her dress, shakes out her hair and stiffens her spine.

"So, you're back."

Her tone far too hard for his liking.

"Regina's little trick worked." Her arms cross over her chest, a barrier between them, he's never been one to enjoy those, especially with her. It is her. In a different way. And while there are many, many questions he still needs to ask, things that need to be answered, there wasn't a shred of doubt in his mind nor his heart, when Regina had told him just how he was able to be breathing again, that he needed to come here, to her. Most may not be able to understand it, why he would kiss one and then walk to the other, the sinister half, the darker evil twin, they don't need to. The only ones that need to make sense of it are himself, their children (a conversation clearly for later), Regina who smiled and let his hand slip from her own after he promised to return, and the Queen. The one piece in the puzzle that probably more than any of them needs to understand. He loves her. Loves them both. In their own ways. But regardless his heart didn't split like she had. It hadn't separated into a lighter and darker half, both tethered to their respectives soulmates, his heart is whole, and he loves each of them. Raised eyebrows be damned.

"Thank you."

She scowls, picking at a piece of silk at her wrist, a torn gape in the fabric he glares at. He likes this dress. Had noticed it the moment he had turned. It brings out her eyes. He adores her eyes. The window to her soul, even if, like now, she tries to hide them from his gaze. "I didn't do anything."

He chuckles, closing the distance slowly, thankful she doesn't step away again. "Well, I do believe that the reason I am standing here is in a large part because of you."

"Perhaps you have been lied to."

"I doubt that."

"What makes you so certain?"

"I know you better."

The Queen sinks at his words, berating herself for the small smile that parts against her naked lips. "Yes well, you've said your thanks. You may leave."

"You truly think I wish to do so?"

"Regina is waiting for you."

"You're not wrong."

"Then you should go."

"Why?"

Well she certainly didn't (absolutely did) miss his incessant stubbornness and questions. Her mind battles itself, because he should go, he is supposed to go, to live happily ever after with the one person that could give it to him. But he is still here, head tipped to the side, dimples on full display as he smiles at her, that irritatingly melting smile, and she can do nothing but roll her eyes, grumbling out a stiff  _because Robin_ , as she turns away, ready to seal herself off in the hidden room once more. She gets halfway before his hand lightly grips her bicep, stalling her in the motion, and before she can understand what he is doing, his lips are pressed against hers, soft and gentle, and she shouldn't kiss him back, he isn't really hers, but her heart wins, that little spark of red underneath the cavern of black spirals out of control, and she does, holds him to her lips, revels in the taste of mint on his mouth.

His breath is warm against her skin as their lips part with a pop, and she sinks into him, allowing his forehead to rest on her own. "Never think, for one second, that I do not love you as well." His confession grips her hard, "Nothing can change that."

"How can it not? I am who I am."

"You're right. And I love you still."

"You shouldn't."

His lips finds her again, chaste and far too quick, "I'll decide who I will and will not share my heart with, Your Majesty." He smiles as her title rolls off his tongue, his hands lacing behind her back. "I fell in love with both of you, I love both of you."

She shakes her head, sighing into his arms, letting him hold her up for as long as he wishes. Which apparently isn't long enough, before he is guiding her into the candle light stone room, settling them both on the wooden chest, his hands never letting her own go.

"You gave a part of yourself up for me. Not knowing if it would work. Why?"

She should say something that won't make her sound so damn weak. But his lips are against her temple, his body snug into her own, warm and safe, and before she can stop them, it tumbles out, quiet into the silent walls.

"Because I love you too." His smile is felt, more than it is seen, the weight he rests on her deepens as her eyes focus down on their hands, laced and locked together, his thumb running along her fingers.

"Thank You."

They fall into silence, he not needing to say much more, and she having no real words to say back anyway. It is what it is, and for the few moments she is allowed to bleed him in, she will. Has all intentions to soak in every second of this before it's taken away. At some point they shift to sit on the floor, her leg draped over his own, hand resting against his skin underneath the cotton shirt, his arm slung about her shoulders as the rest against the wood trunk. She watches the candles, as the wick slowly melts away from the flame, dying into a low burning deep orange ember, bouncing dimly along the stone brick.

It feels warm again.

Footsteps click before she registers them, and when her eyes move up, she see's herself, the lighter heroic version standing there, hands clasped together in front of a black blazer, white teeth biting hesitantly down on a pale lower lip. She looks tired, and scared if the Queen is being honest. Probably a mirror image of herself in all honesty. And she waits for the shuffle of Robin's body beside her, the vacancy he will leave behind as he surely will go to Regina, to the one he is meant to love, and yet, his chin brushes against her forehead, stubble scratches along her temple as she sits up straight, ready to let it all go.

"My love." His hand extends out though he doesn't move from their spot, "My other love." He amends with a chuckle, squeezing the Queen's hand still within one of his own. They stare at one another, carefully, and rather shy, waiting for something they aren't really sure of, and Regina steps forward, heels clicking against the floor muted. The Queen watches as their fingertips find one another, slowly move to enclose, and she is sitting face to face with her other half. Without any sharp remarks, snide comments, or threats, they simply look at each other, distanced fractionally by Robin's body, Regina's eyes barely moving when he kisses her forehead in greeting.

As if in sync, they both settle into the respective shoulders of Robin's arms, nuzzling into his warmth, a faint flicker of a smile crossing both their lips, a lining of tears welling up in Regina's eyes, as her hand moves to find his heart, only to touch a palm already resting there. The Queen pulls back, wanting to take what she can, but it's odd, this situation, feeling what the other feels, knowing what the other knows, and slowly, she feels her hand being encircled and placed back on his heart, on half of it at least.

Her eyes locked down onto the slender fingers that hold her hand, before a breathless, watery "Thank You." escapes Regina who shifts further into her lover, and the Queen nods, smiles before burying herself into her soulmate.

And maybe it is strange, odd, and misunderstanding to everyone else, but it feels right, feels for the first time in a long time, that maybe, come tomorrow, she won't be alone anymore, maybe there is hope for her after all.

Fin.


	32. Heartbreak, Cupcakes and the Colour Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DragonDimples

She doesn't like the holiday. Finds the fact people need a specific date on which to proclaim their undying, overwhelming, clearly overdramatized love for one another in public honestly repulsive. It's all red, white and vomited pink every corner.

And she hates pink, so there is that.

It's even more nauseating how pent up this little town is over the festivity. There isn't a window she walks by that isn't stuffed to the brim with flowers, cut out hearts, stuffed animals, sickly sweet candy and diamond jewelry sale signs; the latter just makes her scoff with a heavy roll of her eyes. "Show someone you love them with this ring that's on sale!" It's ridiculous.

Everyone walks hand in hand, sandwiched together as though personal space isn't a thing anymore, tongues smacking against one another, trading saliva for all to see. It makes her skin crawl, the disdain painted quite clearly on her face as she makes her way down Mifflin Street, huffing a hot breath as she turns the corner. At least here there won't be any red or pink heart shaped confetti thrust into her face, or repulsive ooey gooey lovey dovey nonsense every second.

Thank God Regina is still Regina... to a degree, most certainly in love, but she hasn't yet caved into a love sick puppy. She appreciates that. The last thing she needs is more talk about this ridiculous holi— oh! Oh no! He looks so sad! Her heart drops into the pits of her stomach at the sight of curly brown hair sulking over tiny green jacketed shoulders and little turned in sneakered feet (which are new, he must have learned to tie his shoes recently). The little dark cloud of despair is big enough to have her sinking on the spot, and deciding to melt anyone who dare put this sadness on his face.

She makes her way quickly to the stone step, a bubble of rage and heartbreak swirling about her soul as she sits down, hissing at the shrill bite of frozen concrete against her jean clad thighs. She hates the cold. Absolutely abhors it. A tiny sniffle brings her back from her internal monologue of simply setting the town on fire for a bit of warmth to reality.

"What's wrong my little one?"

He sniffs hard again, rubbing the cotton woven glove against his nose, the line of snot that follows the path of his hand she'd usually find disgusting, but is rather harrowingly adorable as snowflakes settle on long brown lashes. The fat tear droplets that fall onto his cheeks spur her into gear. He doesn't even relent as she tugs him into her lap, wrapping the cream cashmere coat around his front, securing them back to front, hugging him in tight enough so that she may rest her chin on his small, trembly little shoulders, watching the way little fingers begin to play with her royal purple scarf. He smells like leaves. Warm spring air and crisp leaves. A welcomed aroma compared to the stench of forest his father's skin is soaked in. How Regina can sleep next to that stink is completely beyond her.

"C'mon now. Why the crocodile tears?"

"Crocodiles don't cry, Mal."

She huffs indignantly, a bit put off by the fact her normally hidden attempt at humor, that usually has a smile cracking into his dimpled cheeks, has failed rather spectacularly. He doesn't even shift when her fingers find the spaces that typically send him into fitfuls of squealing laughter. God this is depressing. "Did something happen with Regina?"

He shakes his head.

"What about your papa?"

Again, it's a no. The same goes for Henry, and the rag tag group of Merry Men. Nothing seems to be wrong, but yet, here she is, inhaling hard, cold frozen breaths on the Mayor's steps, hugging a tiny toddler who has completely stolen her entire heart and being. It's then, as she is rocking them back and forth, she spies it. A small white card with a cartoon bumblebee holding a heart, the scrawled "Bee My Valentine" curled around the edges. It's absurd. Adorable. But absurd. It clicks then. Why her little one is sitting alone in the cold with tear stained cheeks and a broken heart.

"Did you give Sarah her Valentines Day card?"

His curls tickle her nose as he shakes his head no, sinks into her arms more with a pitiful little huff. "She didn't want it."

"Why is that?"

"I dunno."

"Well did you ask her to be your Valentine?"

"Yeah."

"And she said no?"

"Mhmm…."

For the love of God, if she was allowed to roast this little girl's parents for raising such an ungrateful petulant brat of a daughter, without having the entire town scolding her for doing it, by the high heavens and seven circles of hell she'd be burning down the front door before they could even answer the first knock. How dare she? How dare she reject him? It's not like she is that pretty anyway, with blue eyes that aren't very sparkly, and blonde ringlets that are messy and unkempt. She's irritating like every single child in this town, well all of them except him. He is perfection incarnate.

"So you don't have a Valentine?"

"Nope." His lip quivers, the pout becoming more than she can handle.

"Neither do I."

She feels him still in her arms, turning the brown curly head of hair around to look up at her though she deliberately avoids his eyes, forcing a painted scowl on her own face. "No one wants to be my Valentine." She sniffs with all the acting glory she can muster, "Not a single person." A hard gutted exhale, obviously fake to anyone but the little boy in her arms, extended far out into the sky. She shifts, cursing her rather frozen backside, as he squirms around to face her, cupping her cheeks in his chilly cold cotton wrapped fingers.

"Don't be sad." He coos ever so cutely, "I could be your Valentine, if you want?"

"You would?" She clutches her heart, acting it up with melodramatics, "Truly?"

He nods his head with all the determination in the world and she throws her arms about his little torso, swinging him up into her arms as she stands swiftly, spinning with over dramatic cries of happiness, pressing kiss after kiss onto every exposed piece of skin she can find, a repetitive bubbly chorus of "thank you, thank you, thank you." sung out until he is back into fits of laughter, her preferred way he always be.

"And what's going on here?"

She freezes mid swing, a flush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks at the fact she has just been stumbled upon acting particularly outrageous when she is usually cut and dry with most. The words catch in her throat as the pair walk up, both trying to hide knowing, smug smiles. She will never live this down. Being caught spinning around like a table top whilst basically singing out through relentless kisses and hugs.

"Maleficent is going to be my Valentine!"

She cringes, for a half second as Robin's jaw drops, Regina's eyebrows arching high, and she doesn't even try to hide her smile now, is about to make some remark Mal would rather not hear, silencing the pair with a hand. "Don't even go there."

It's not like they listen. Especially Regina, who simply leans her head on Robin's shoulders, eyeing up the Dragon thoughtfully, "I thought you didn't believe in Valentines day."

"I don't." Maleficent barks back, trying to hold onto her last shred of fear and regality in front of them.

"You don't?" His little voice pops out questioningly, eyes suddenly horrified. "Don't you want to be my Valentine?"

"Of course I do. You are the only Valentine I want."

"I am?"

"Always, my little one." She bumps her nose to his own and turns her back immediately, cutting off the beaming, lovey grins that are being sent her way, focusing instead on the happy, bubbly giggles from her little Valentine as she carries him into the mansion.

Clearly her plan to spend this wretched holiday drunk on fantastic merlot has gone completely out the window. She is a fan of cupcakes, however, and it just so happens, her Valentine is the town's self proclaimed best cupcake maker, and she is more than ready to indulge on sweet desserts, just so long as the icing isn't pink.

She hates pink. Hates it. But loves him.

So when the confections are presented to her in the god awful hue, covered in red sprinkled hearts, she doesn't even bat an eye, just smiles brighter than the sun, hauls him into her lap as their next movie begins to play, and presses a quick kiss into his chubby cheek.

"Happy Valentines Day, Roland." She whispers secretly into his ear, only for him, sees the little smile that creeps into his face as he snuggles further down into her never ending heat. "Happy Valentines Day, Maleficent."


	33. Just to hear your voice.

 

She knows what this holiday represents. Understands the point of it, kind of. It's a bit silly in all reality. One day a year, everyone decides to profess their love and affection for those to the world. In her opinion these things should be kept between couples, between families, and lovers. Love is something you show everyday, not just on a single one.

Making her way to the white mansion she watches quietly, sees the couples that hold hands, share happy smiles, and sweet kisses, knowing full well not everyone is snuggled up into the one they belong with. Life isn't that giving to some.

She doesn't knock, not anymore, just unlocks the door with her magic, and steps inside, shaking off the dusting of snow on her collar, grimacing at the chill that races down her spine from the cold. Graciously, the warmth of the silent house hugs her quickly. Hanging up the cream cashmere coat and purple scarf, she quickly shucks off her boots and makes her way into the den. She's met not with the smiles that grace the outside world, but with a very solemn, sullen looking Regina, who is curled up underneath a green fleece blanket, hugging a glass of merlot, red rimmed eyes staring into a near dying fire in the hearth across.

"There is a second glass in the cupboard." Regina comments without making eye contact. "And another bottle in the fridge if you don't mind."

Once retrieved, Mal settles herself on the couch beside Regina's curled up legs, throwing back a large gulp of the oak-y alcohol. "It's good." She muses, Regina simply nods, finishing off her own glass before giving herself a healthy re pour. They sit quietly, a mutual understanding that while festivities of love are parading outside, inside the mansion, within the safety of these walls, the mayor is allowed to live out her heartbreak over the soulmate that is out of her reach.

She knows the story, had been told by Regina herself on another drunken night. How after years of wondering, she had finally found him, and fallen completely in love with the thief only to have fate snatch him away once more. She blames Emma, Maleficent does, blames the idiot blonde they call the savior for bringing back Robin's wife. Never one to think about what simple saving might do, who will take the brunt of pain in the end, so long as she and her nauseating heroic family are safe, then to hell with everyone else. She'd wished she had been here for Regina. Wished that the Mayor had someone to sit beside her, get disgustingly drunk with, and allow the once regal monarch a chance to simply cry over lost love without having judgement passed.

She'll do it now. Will make up for every lost day back then.

"I'm surprised you're here."

Maleficent would scoff normally at the barb, but Regina's voice is tired, scratchy and sad. The retort dies on her tongue, a heavy exhale escaping instead as she swallows back another swig of wine, leans back into the couch and turns to catch dark brown eyes that are watching her ever so warily.

"It's not like anyone here is going to be taking a Dragon out on a date."

"You're sulking over not having a Valentine's Day date?"

"I have one."

"I don't think I count, nor is this a date." Regina chidley points, "Just you making yourself apparently comfortable on my couch and drinking my rather expensive wine."

Maleficent grins, a playful, wolfish thing, stretches out like a cat and pours herself a second glass, bouncing an eyebrow mischievously, a strange flirtatious thing that has Regina letting out a soft chuckle as she sinks into the cushions. "It is delicious wine."

It's nice, to have someone here, well not someone, there is no one she would let simply saunter into her house uninvited with the exception of Maleficent. Who in the past few months has become a rather needed, however, strange confident in what feels like a time of utter loss and loneliness. She misses him. Doesn't talk about him. But misses him.

Days like today aren't the reason why either. Seeing everyone else having romantic dinners and sharing sweet cards and kissing under dimly lit streets. No. She misses him in the quietest of moments. The mornings when his heavy puffs of sleepy breath would lull her back to sleep. A gentle hand on her back when uncertainty infiltrated her nerves. The happy, hushed laughter that came from the living room as she walked back with a bowl of popcorn ready for movie night with her ever so new little family. That's what she misses. Just him. His eyes that smiled ever so sweetly for reasons she doesn't understand why she deserved them. Nor the stoic words of trust imparted towards her, the quiet whispers into her hair of his affection. The mansion is far too silent these days, her skin left long untouched, even his voice seems to hide in the dark corners, so far away it's barely above a secret sound, just for her.

"We are going to need another bottle." Maleficent smiles, draining her glass.

"There's a third in the kitchen."

The dragon stands, graceful as always, something Regina has always aspired to have. The sorceress walks with poise and composure, regardless of the sneering gazes and whispered harsh words, it deflects on her clean cut cashmere scales. She is truly something, the dragon queen. Regina's eyes find the fire again, watching the flames dance delicately, her fingers flutter silently, turning the bright tangerine spiced fire into a deep seeded hunter green, and somehow the room feels warmer. She wonders how he is. If the smog and pollution of New York has claimed the forest smell that clung to his skin. Wonders how they are doing, all of them, even Marian. Wonders if Roland still has his stuffed monkey at night to snuggle into. Wonders if Robin thinks of her at all anymore. They had said their goodbyes, and she hadn't really thought she'd ever see him again, but hearing his voice, that would have been nice. Just a simple text even, just one, saying hello, letting her know they were all okay. It's probably better this way though, not having any contact. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but what of an absence that will never end, what happens to a heart then?

"A forest fire?" Mal's voice echoes out, pulling Regina from her thoughts. A curious arched blonde eyebrow thrown her way as bright, knowing blue eyes flick to the dying green colored flames that lick back into dark sunset oranges. She sits, the couch sags slightly, and Regina's empty wine glass is quickly refilled, dulling the ache in her chest with a light liquored buzzing.

They talk of nothing, more about Maleficent and Lily, how they are coping with this new world, being a family, living in a place where everything seems so fragile. It's getting better. Maleficent has learned about some of the modern technologies this world can offer, Lily's doing. And in return, they have been working on the life of a dragon. How to control the outburst of magic. Thankfully they live on the outskirts of town where impromptu fires won't damage houses nearby. It is getting better.

Somewhere in the den Regina's cellphone rings, and she waves off Maleficent's question if she'd like to answer it. There isn't anyone she has the will to talk to right now. Not while there is a half-empty third bottle of sweet merlot to still be attended too. The blanket around her feet is tugged tighter as she lets out a heavy sigh, sinking into the sofa further, closing her eyes as she listens to Maleficent pander on about nothing of importance, she knows she's doing it to try and ease the silence, help quieten the void that surrounds her. The incessant ringing of her phone sounds off again. Irritatingly echoing about the walls.

"I'll just answer it." Maleficent chides, standing swiftly, though Regina tells her to leave it, but Mal has none of it, simply shrugs and walks over to the annoying device. She doesn't listen to Mal answering, doesn't care, hopes if anything the Dragon will have a sharp tongue and silence the irritable person on the other end.

She's mid way through a hearty gulp when Mal is suddenly beside her, with a smile that is unplaceable, phone attached to her ear still. "She's right here, hold on."

The phone is extended and Regina scowls, wishes she could throw a fireball at the other woman for this, but she just redecorated, well that's a lie, she moved the furniture, a chair, she moved a chair, but still, she can't risk it being burnt to ash.

"Go on." Mal thrusts the cellphone into Regina's reluctant hand and sits down beside her once more, smiling though Regina looks as though she is about to throttle her. With one last glare, Regina pulls the phone up to her ear, musters all the internal sharp anger she has ready to send whoever dares to interrupt her evening packing.

"Regina?"

Her heart stops, stammers and halts with screeching brakes as air rushes out of her lungs.

"Are you there?"

Thank god it's only Mal beside her because the tears flush her eyes without restraint, and she can do nothing but cling to the phone against her ear with a trembling hand.

"Regina? Love?"

"Hi."

She hears him sigh at the sound of her shaky voice, can picture his sky blue eyes smiling at her, dimples on full display, God she misses him.

"Hi." He finally responds after a baited second, "How are you?"

It's a silly question. And she isn't going to have a meltdown right now with him miles away and no chance of coming back to her.

"I'm fine."

Fine, she's fine…she knows what fine means, he knows what fine means. His heavy exhale lets her know it too.

"How are you?"

The phone goes quiet for a moment, and she is terrified she lost him, lost this one chance to actually get to hear his voice.

"Robin?"

"I'm fine."

Her heart aches, physically hurts as it hammers against her chest sadly. A pitiful beating that keeps her alive and breathing.

"How's New York?"

"Loud."

She laughs at that. He is so used to the quiet calm of the forest. "And dirty." A tear slips down her cheek as she listens to the sweet warmth of his voice, lets it wrap her in a hug she can almost feel. "There are far too many people here."

"It can be chaotic, I can't even imagine."

"I wish you could see it."

With him. She wishes she could see it with him. Be there to hold his hand and walk along the streets filled with an exorbitant amount of people, all huffing and pushing their way through the bustling streets. She'd love it though. Would happily walk beside him, be knocked into by random strangers, if she was just with him.

"How's Roland?"

"He's okay."

"Just okay?"

Longing coats Robin's voice as he answers back, "He misses you."

She sinks. Her heart sinks. She misses him too. Terribly so. Misses the messy brown, curly hair she would comb through at night during their second time reading  _The Cat and The Hat_. Misses his face covered in chocolate ice cream. Misses his little hands finding hers as they walked down the street.

"I miss him too."

"I miss you." He confesses and her heart threatens to tear apart at its last lingering thread. She feels Mal's hand softly squeeze her blanketed covered foot, a sad, soft comfort. A light clicking chimes into her ear, a shrill thing compared to Robin's timbered lull.

"What was that?"

"I believe that I am about to run out of time."

"Robin, where are you?"

"I'm currently standing on a corner by Central Park."

"Are you not on your cellphone?"

He's biting his lip, she knows he is, can hear it in the change in breathing pattern. Something is wrong, maybe not wrong, but not right. He should be on his phone. The one she gave him. The one that has her number in it, on speed dial, one button he needed to ever press should he need her.

"Robin?"

"I am on a payphone."

"Where is your phone?"

"I - I still have it."

"Then why are you calling me from a payphone?"

"Marian found your number on it."

She stills, clenches her jaw tight with a fraction of guilt. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She asked why I had your number, if I still wanted to be with you."

"What did you say?" The words fall before she can hold them back. Her aching wonder getting the best of her.

"I miss you, Regina. Everyday."

He misses her, but he can't choose her. He has his family. A wife and child he needs to think about. She wipes away a stream of tears, leans into the cashmere pillow, and tries to halt the hitch in her breathing. He doesn't need to know she is this torn up over this distance between them. It will only make it worse.

"I'm sorry, my love. I wish this could be different."

"I know." She sniffs hard. "I can't believe you remembered my number though, you're awful with numbers." She tries to smile, but fails miserably.

"It's burned into my memory, I would never forget it."

I would never forget  _you_ , it's what he wants to say. Desperately wishes circumstances could be different, that he could hold her in his arms once again, kiss her softly in the mornings, and promise that they would fall into bed together every night. But he can't make those promises. Not anymore.

The shrill clicking happens again and Robin sighs.

"I just wanted to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day, M'lady."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Robin."

She hears him about to say something else, but the phone goes horribly quiet, the call disconnected, but she doesn't need to hear the words he was about to tell her, those three little ones that she already knows, and hopes for all she is worth that he knows she loves him too.

He does.


	34. The Most Fortunate Man

Robin is a lucky man. He knows it. Understands that most men will go their entire life without being half as lucky as he is. He has a wonderful home filled with soft blankets and warm fires. A happy healthy family to have dinners with and Sunday park picnics with. He has a solid group of friends he can rely on at anytime, anywhere, for any reason. Yes. Robin Locksley is a lucky, lucky man and can't fathom how it is possible that he is allowed to have all the things a man could desire and still be given the woman he calls his wife.

A siren in her own right, dark chocolate hair that falls just below her olive cream shoulders, ones that are speckled with a constellation of freckles which trail down her arms and across her clavicle. She has a passion that could rival volcanic fire, a heat in her hickory, honey brown gaze that holds him steady as she sways and saunters over to him, arching a delicately shaped eyebrow, a predator he is willingly about to be devoured by.

Her lips are full, painted a deep merlot red, a line of white teeth peeks out to bite down on the plump flesh, followed by a wet slide of her tongue. The action has him salivating, an urge to get inherently drunk on the taste of her mouth spikes into overdrive. His heart picks up a beat, skips and stutters as the midnight black silk robe slides open. He is a lucky man. He knows it to be true.

It's lace, and silk, strappy and absolutely begging to be ripped off should he be allowed to use his hands outside of the white chiffon ties that hold him down. It cups in all the right places, has a pretty silk long tied bow settled between her breast. He wants to bury his face into those breasts. Wants to suckle, nip, and lick pebbled, rose hardened nipples till she writhes and pants beneath him. She says black is her color, though he can't fathom why she doesn't wear the crimson wine color more often. Maybe it gets to be just for him. He's okay with that. More than okay with that.

He wriggles in his restraints, pitifully so, as long slender legs saddle across his hips, ruby lace sitting squarely where he can't conceal his unending want for her. She doesn't care. Clearly it spurs her on more if anything. He swallows as she lets a slow roll of her hips grind over the bareness of his lower half. Bloody magic. He lays spread naked, cuffed to the headboard whilst she is apparently allowed free reign. Roams long, sharp nails down his torso, curling pink patterns into his skin and rubbing. Always rubbing, up and down, back and forth, the feeling of sticky dampness caught behind a layer of lace is enough to drive him to the brink of insanity.

She wants to drive him insane. Wants to push and push till he begs. He knows it by the wolfish grin she smiles down at him, revels in the bob of his adam's apple as his eyes devour her attire. Sangria red silk bow tied bra and matching lace trimmed bottom attached by eight black straps that criss cross sinfully about her curves, accentuating where he already aches to touch. She smells of roses and diamonds, something rich and soft, her skin like butter as she leans down over his body, letting every inch of her touch every inch of him.

Robin is a lucky man. He knows this. And he's never felt the fortune of said luck until he has his wife straddled above him, kissing along his stubbled jaw, whispering into his ear all the provocative plans she has for him.

It's called Valentine's Day, and he doesn't really quite grasp the concept of it, why lovers go all out on just one day, buy far too expensive gifts, eat and drink an exorbitant amount of champagne, binge on chocolates and have one night of "lovemaking" all because the holiday says that is what you are supposed to do.

So no, he doesn't quite understand this Lover's Holiday, given the fact this, being plunged into the vortex that is Regina Mills, is a nightly routine for him.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Thief." She sits up, and he is already irritated he can no longer feel all of her body on his, but the bow that holds her breasts together is being played with by long slender fingers, and Robin can do nothing but stare as the small knot is slowly pulled apart, and he groans as she is exposed to him.

It crosses his mind again, for the thousandth time, that he is a lucky, lucky man.


	35. Darkness Meets Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a needed thing...and there are many people to blame...but here you go, it's not beta'd so mind the mistakes and have some Evil Outlaw.
> 
> Part 1 of 3

Well, this he hadn't exactly been expecting. Regina is stunning, he hasn't yet denied that even to her, but the Queen...she is...he's not even really sure how to describe her. Their eyes are the exact same, and yet so much different. Where sad hopefulness resides in one, mischievous and irresistibly sultry swirls in the other. Everything about her is tantalizing. The slope of her jaw curving into a slender delicate line in her neck, perfect soft olive skin covering every inch of skin his eyes trail over. Damned be his train of thought of leaving this place when her breasts are pressed up for his endless viewing. Covered sinfully with dark elaborate silk and black diamonds that cinch down into her tiny waist, hugging the curves he's seen on Regina.

Her smile had rooted him to the spot, a thumping in his heart when her leather gloved fingers brushed against his cheek, the peaking of her tongue licking across her lower lip. Maybe this is what he was supposed to be feeling for Regina. This lost sensation he's heard her talk about over stories of  _her_  Robin. It's indescribable. The tug in his gut at the sway of the Queen's hip. The burning in his lungs to her rich perfumed smell. Even her voice had his chest constricting, a low glow that saunters seductively into his ears. She is bloody perfect. Stories of the Enchanted Forest be damned. He can't find a single fuck to give for her past, not when the present is standing right in front of him, tugging playfully at the lapels of his coat in a way that has his cock stirring.

"So tell me, Mr. Locksley." The Queen drawls out, eyeing him up with a glint, "Has Regina not been treating you well?" Her body presses into him, the groan catching in his throat feeling her tits brushing his chest. "Seems if you're so keen on running away, I already know the answer." She scratches against the stubble on his neck, "Such a pity, she just doesn't seem to see you for you." That is an understatement. Regina looks at him and see's the other Robin. It's frustrating. He's not that man. He can't be that man. Doesn't want to be in fact. "I on the other hand understand you." The Queen pouts, taking a step back from him, a step he is loathe to allow. Adjusting himself lest she see the effect she is having on him, Robin huffs, rolls his eyes and watches the way she watches him, her eyes trailing from boot to eyes, lingering on rather inappropriate places longer than others.

"What makes you think you know me so well?" He pokes back, waiting to see if she will take the bait.

"I know you better than you think."

"Is that so, Your Majesty."

She hums, taps a slender finger to her lips before turning back to him, a slight gasp escaping at the proximity of his body to her own, a distance he'd closed without her realizing apparently. He smirks smugly at her, Good, at least she too is rather affected by this...whatever this is. "Well for one, I think you'd have loosened an arrow at me by now."

"True."

"Why haven't you." She leans into him, and there they are again, her bloody perfect breasts pushed into his face. God. He wants to burying himself into them, squeeze and tug at her nipples till she is gasping and crying out his name. Swallowing down his need to taste her mouth, he tilts his head down, inhaling heavy, watching her watch the way her hands move up and down with the movement just above his heart. If her past is any indication he should be rather afraid of the fingers that curls into the fabric just above his precious organ. "Probably for the same reason you haven't reduced me to a pile of ash with your magic."

She eyes him up curiously.

"I have heard of Robin and Regina's connected fate."

A dark eyebrow cocks, a smile creeping into her cheeks, "True Love?."

"Soulmates." He retorts, treading his hands around her back, testing to see if she will let him touch her. She arches slightly into his palms, his hands bowing at the top of her ass, presenting it delectably for his grasping. He does. Takes the leap and palms her backside full, forcing her hips to come into contact with his own, the hum she bites back with a gasp is pure sin to his ears. The thought that maybe the stinging in his heart is from a destined tether. Perhaps he doesn't  _feel_  what Regina has explained to him of her love with Robin because he isn't her soulmate, perhaps light is meant for light and darkness for darkness.

"An interesting notion if you're into all that nauseating nonsense." She darts back, letting her eye wander his face.

"Not really." He lies, turning them so her back is against the tree, his thigh wedging between her legs, her groan spurring his action on to explore more of her body she is so willingly to allow him to touch. And touch he shall. Starting with her hips, pinning her effectively between his erection and the bark of the tree.

She moves before he can do it first. Her lips claiming his own, hot and greedily as her arms wrap around his shoulders and tug at his hair, pulling him closer. If possible, he'd have melted on the spot, tasting her. It's thick and sweet, something he can't quite put his finger on, but is happy to drown in it all the same what with her tongue prodding into his mouth. She pulls back, much to his dismay, her lips curved into an impish delectable smile. Her tongue swipes along her lips, tasting him with a purr. "My my, Regina doesn't know what she is missing."

His leg presses between her own, letting her weight sink on to him, a grind in her hips sending a shiver up his spine. "Maybe I prefer something darker."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows raise matching the devilish smile that splits wider, "And tell me, Robin Locksley, " She tugs him closer, warm breath ghosting across his face, his eyes remaining trained on the red shade of her lips, "Just how dark did you have in mind?" Her mouth brushes against his teasingly.

He crushes her to him, a hand fisting into her hair. It's sloppy and wet, and down right incredible. His other hand veers from her hip, ghosting upwards skimming along her ribs and groping eagerly at her breasts. They feel just as amazing as they look. Better even. Soft and full in his palm as she arches harder into him. She pushes at his coat, licking a line from his mouth across his jaw and down his neck, nipping sharply at his adam's apple. "Gods." He groans following her path into her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, biting and soothing as many spots as he can. Jacket divested, she moves onto his shirt, ripping them apart for a moment as she pulls it over his head, tossing into the fire, the material burning up in a second.

Her nails rake across his back, over his shoulders and down his chest, leaving red thin lines behind. He hopes they scar. Wants to walk around for the rest of his days with her brand emblazoned on him. And fair is only fair. The jewel encrusted cloak she wears following suit as he pushes it from her body, and this woman is a down right evil witch. The corset is leather, strung together tight enough he wonders how she can breathe. Best to rid her of it, lest she suffocate.

He mouths his way down her chest, fumbling at the ties at the base of her spine. Bloody garment refusing to part. "Need some assistance outlaw?" She chuckles darkly into his ear, rolling her hips into his pelvis near painfully hard against his cock. His fingers find the small knife in his pocket, slicing it through the silk laced ties that hide her body from him. She growls as the corset falls ruined from her body, and he'd care, but she is bare in front of him. Goosebumps covering from navel to nipple. And god her nipples are perfect. Tight and pink, begging to be sucked on. Well if he must.

The Queen sighs, bites her lower lip and cards sharply through his hair, directing him to do just that, lick and suck at her. Her head swirls at the heat of his tongue, a hard contrast against the cold air. She hisses as his teeth nip at her, tugging before his tongue slides over her breast, his hands squeezing them together, hard, just how she likes it. A bit rough, no sappy gentle touches. "You're tits are amazing." He groans between her skin, the stubble scratching in a way that has her thighs tensing and clenching around his leg still graciously wedge between her own. Grinding down onto his leg, she swallows back a tight moan, the seam of her pants rubbing against her clit.

His hands fall away, much to her disappointment, she likes her breasts to be attended too, but her eyes drift open enough to see him falling to his knees, lifting his hands to tug at the leather pants, and she was never one to wear undergarments, finds them all to restricting and just another barrier before she gets what she wants. "Christ. Fucking hell." He lifts a leg over his shoulder, hooking her around him, she can see the hunger in his eyes, the way he licks his lips has her pooling hot where she throbs for some attention.

If he had any thought that this trip wasn't worth the irritation of dealing with the townspeople, that's all but flown out the window now that he is kneeling in front of who he believes to be probably the most perfect specimen of a woman he's ever seen. He will devour this woman, make her cum and shake with just his tongue. And Robin is nothing if not persistent. He palms himself through his breaches, trying to give him some reprieve as he dots a string of kisses along her lips, sucking lightly, licking between her folds. Her fingers grip his hair, directing him where she needs it, he denies her. Reveling in the desperate arch of her hips as he makes his way to where her hip and cunt join, biting at the tender skin.

"I'm growing impatie-Aaah!" Her snapping giving way to a breathless moan as his lips close around her clit, sucking hard, the stubble on his jaw a pleasant sensation as he feasts on her arousal. She tastes incredible, the feeling of her legs quivering around him even better, she is shaking and he wants her to fall. He hears something along the lines of using his fingers to fuck her, and he groans against the feel of wetness that slides down his hand as he cups her from behind, teasing and prodding where it gathers. God she is wet, wet and hot, and tight and fuck, his other hand pumps his begging cock, faster as he presses into her, curling up and sliding slowly back out.

He'll stay in this godforsaken town so long as he is allowed to finger fuck this woman for the rest of his life. It would be more than worth it.

She bucks and twists, grinds down into his fingers with a hitched scream, and it's like he knows where to touch, where to press, finding the rough patch of skin inside that has her doubling over, fingers clawing brutally into his shoulder blades as he continues to suck and lick and fuck her. He can feel the way her walls tremble, the quiver and clenching against the relentless thumping of his fingers into her.

"Let me taste your orgasm." He growls between her thighs, doubling in the effort as he leaves his own arousal to grip her backside, hauling her impossibly closer to his mouth. It's apples. She tastes like apples. Everything about her is sweet and sinful.

She growls, slams her head back into the bark with a thud as she does exactly what he asked for and coats his tongue with her climax, rolling her hips slower into the easier pace of his fingers, drawing out every last drop against the flat strokes of his tongue. He lets her hand push his mouth away, a sloppy pop as he relents his mouths grasp on her, and for a second he's caught off guard by just how bloody stunning she is. Dazed and lust filled gaze sweeping down at him. He stands, brushes a damp curl from her face, and licks his lips, humming smugly as she catches her breath.

"We make a good pair." She chuckles, letting him hoist her up into his arms, her hand twirling fractionally to release him of his tented pants. She rocks into him, bumping his erection between her thighs, laughing darkly at the groan he spills into her mouth. She's a goddess, a stunning regal dark angel around him, sin and sweat slicking up his cock, and she is so bloody wet, so hot and greedy as he sinks into her. Her hands tangle into his hair with a moan, her hips moving and twisting to take every last inch of him, her demand for him to fuck her a prayer sent from the Gods as he rutts into her, hard. Hard enough he knows the tree bark with scrape her perfect skin, and while she is free to tear into his own flesh, he'll be damned if a single mark is left on her. He goes to move, shifts to wrap around her waist and lay her on the softer ground.

"No." Her thighs clench around his waist, walls around his cock, "Here. Fuck me here. Against this tree." He stills for a moment, caught between wanting to give into her demands and let his small streak of chivalry take over. "Robin." She tugs his jaw towards her, a dark glow in her eyes, "Now." Well if it's what the Queen wants. He spins her back into the tree, drawing himself slowly from her heat before thumping back inside, and she makes this noise, these bloody sounds that stroke his ego beautifully, has his pace picking up quicker as she claws and mewls for him. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, thighs clench and grip around his ass, her heels digging into his backside. He buries himself into her, tits and cunt all at the same time, biting down on the supple flesh where he can, his hands gripping her ass, forcing the roll of her hips to take him inside harder, deeper, far enough he can hear her cursing to not stop, she is so close, so fucking close, and thank god, his restraint can only last so long with her arousal slicking and puddling across his thighs.

"God! Fuck!" She pants, losing her breath as he feels her finally clench and cum around him, her hips erratically squirming as he pumps through her orgasm, wanting to give her as much as she can and then some should he deem fit. Her tongue licks across his jaw, sucks on his ear as she breathes out heavily "Come for me Robin, only for me." Her command is his wish. With a hard final raps of his cock in and out of her, he spills, climbs over the proverbial edge and lets her cunt drain him dry.

His arms shake from holding her up, but he will not release her from his hold just yet, not until he is certain she will allow him to do that all over again, sooner rather than later if he is hopeful. It's with a playful kiss she grants him that wish, letting her tongue tease his lips, "Seems the darkness likes you."

Perhaps she is right. Maybe darkness is meant for darkness. And if she wills it, he will follow her down the tunnel. So long as he is allowed to fuck her again.


	36. Into The Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So technically this started out as a sequel piece to Darkness Meets Darkness (Chapter 35) ...and now it's just become it's own thing and I am obliged to write another chapter even after this one...so way to go Dark Outlaw Queen Smut...you've forced me into writing a mini verse. Gah! Also this is not entirely beta'd so just mind the mistakes if you see them.
> 
> Happy Reading!

 

**Part 2.**

**Into The Grey**

They didn't make it far, barely twenty minutes passing as they stalked through the trees till Robin had his grip back on the Queen's hips, pulling her ass he had in his hands earlier all soft, plump and glorious exposed for his viewing pleasure. Her playful gasp at his touch has him tamping down the urge to tear off all her clothes once more, expensive material looked better on the forest floor anyway. Post tree fuck they had sat naked in front of the fire, he against the log, she straddling his lap, her tongue doing sinister things across the expanse of his skin.

She has the upper hand, they are both aware of that, given the fact she was part of Regina when the other Robin was here. It's rather odd to him to think about the fact that she already knows the spots to nip and bite at, what to say to harden his cock in a matter of seconds. He and his alternate version share much in common, save for the heroic streak. He doesn't care for the plight of others really, his fortunes are more important. Fortunately, Robin is a quick learner, and the Queen is apparently more than eager to allow him the opportunities to make her scream.

He'd taken her by the fire right then and there, in the middle of a long drag of her hips along his erection, he'd slid down slower, angling himself with his hand behind her, guiding himself back into the sweet, succulent grip of her heat.

If she is the Devil as they all claim, he will be a willing servant for all eternity. He's slept with his share of women, but they pale in comparison to her. Dull and unappealing when put toe to toe with this woman, one that moans and grinds up and down on him relentlessly, ferociously greedy in her pleasure, demanding he give her everything and then some. Even as his eyes roll back in his head and his balls are straining to release, she'd asked for more, always more.

He likes the feeling of her thighs shaking against him, the way her nails dig into his shoulders, the slick wetness of her mouth sucking on his jaw. The phrase "died and gone to heaven" is not quite such a reach in theory to him anymore. He'd slammed into her, bracing his feet against the chilled dirt, giving him extra leverage to push harder, further into her till she lost the sound of her voice in a scream, clenched and tipped over the proverbial edge, slumping back down into his chest, panting erratically as he finished inside her. Perhaps they will make a child. The idea suddenly not so revolting to him, should she be the one to bear his offspring.

She'd promised to aid in his escape from Storybrooke if he helped her finish what she came here to start, though left the details of exactly what that was rather vague. And if he wants freedom, perhaps he can persuade her to join him in the outside world. It was with his acceptance of her offer that they'd set off, through the forest, between the trees that whisper to him to fuck her against them. He's been a good boy so far, but the sway of her hips and low glowing laughter that escapes her has been chipping away at his resolve every step. He's only a man after all, and she has such a seductive body.

"Easy, thief." She smiles at him, arching her backside into his erection dangerously, letting his hands wander and grope her breasts for a moment before she steps out of his reach. "I'll consider taking you again, once I do what I need." He groans, begrudgingly following her as he adjusts his breeches. Once they are done with this silly adventure he plans to be the one taking the Queen, over and over again.

.

..

…

..

.

She'd left the other Robin at the townline, not wanting him to see her tears over the fact he wants to leave escape her eyes. Just the memory of watching her soulmate walk across the townline, again, it brought back unpleasant feelings. It hadn't even been a thought to make sure Zelena took the snake version of herself home safely. Surely her sister could do something right. But when has anything ever been that easy for her? Simple answer, never.

So here she is, scouring the town for a snake, a dark, evil, twisted snake. Somewhere in the back of her mind she has the fleeting thought to warn Robin. He doesn't know about the "situation" of her and her other half. He has to deal with enough, her problems don't need to burden him as well. Perhaps she should go find him first.

His makeshift camp is empty, an unsettling tension to the air as she sifted through his few things. Her eyes catch the treading of his boots, mixed in between a second pair. A female pair. The air in her lungs freezes as the golden cuff that had surrounded the snake's neck appears into view, broken open, a flecking of purple dust surrounding it.

Her hand ghosts over the metal, a hot spark tickling her fingers and her heart drops. She's back. Somehow she's escaped, transformed back…while being with Robin. How that is possible she doesn't know. But if the Queen is truly in her regal human form, there are bigger problems than how it happened.

Regina is terrified. Scared to death for her family, for what the Queen could do to all of them. How many people she could lose if this doesn't end right now, if she doesn't end this right now. It's the only way. That much has been known since Hyde's demise and while the thought of dying is rather grim, what choice does she have? She wanted to split from the Evil Queen and be rid of the darkness. This is her path and she has to be the only person to walk down it.

But where the hell is she, and where the hell is Robin? She will wring the other woman's neck if she has so much as harmed a hair on his head. Even if he isn't really hers to protect, it's still… him. And she promised him that they would find his way out of Storybrooke, to his happy ending, one without her. God she wishes her Robin was here, he'd know what to do. He'd be there to hold her hand and promise that they will find a way to fix this, to have hope where she can't seem to find any.

Brushing off the dirt on her knees, she follows the tingling of magic she knows far too well, an invisible trail that twists and turns between the trees, and straight towards her office. Her stomach flips as she sees both pair of shoe treads leave the mud and snow at the sidewalk, a light caking of dirt that slicks the concrete and vanishes at the front door. Her eyes flick up to the window of her office. The lights are on. A silhouette stalks slowly by, a second meeting the other behind the curtains. If she didn't know better she'd think they were embracing, but that can't be right. Robin wouldn't do that...even if he is a littler darker than  _her_ Robin… would he seek refuge with the Evil Queen of all people?

Regina transports herself just outside the door, pressing an ear to the oak, her stomach recoiling at the muffled laughter of the Queen. How is this happening to her? How had she let it get this far? To think that she could split herself from the darkness and not have it still cling to her every move. She wants Robin back. Bringing this other version of him just isn't the same.

The door swings open, and Regina stands frozen seeing the Queen standing beside Robin, both arching a curious eye her way.

"It's rude to listen in on a private conversation, Regina, surely you know that." The Queen smiles darkly, glancing up at Robin, letting her fingers dance up his coat. She expects him to slap her hand away, but her heart shakes as he leans into the touch, grinning smugly down at the other woman. He's infatuated with her. She can see it in his eyes. A look he hasn't given her before, but she knows it far too well. "But now that you're here, it saves me a trip to your home."

The door glides shut behind her, the room tense and quiet as she stares at Robin, her magic begging her to vanish him from the spot and back into the safety of the forest. "I wouldn't do that." The Queen chuckles, clicking her way to Regina, "He doesn't want to go, do you, Robin?" She glances back over her shoulder, licking her lips teasingly to the man leaning back across Regina's desk, arms crossed, apparently more than happy to stay.

"See."

Regina growls at the Queen's smug look. "How did you break the spell?" Her hands gesture to the human form of the Queen.

"Perhaps it was True Love's Kiss." The monarch gloats back, "I mean technically he is our soulmate isn't he?"

"You're trying to tell me he kissed a snake?"

"Don't Judge. Some people may be into that."

Robin chuckles behind them, moving to close the distance, his hands landing on the Queen's hips as he peers around the tall fur collar of her cloak. "That would be something wouldn't it. The man you so desperately wanted to bring back isn't actually interested in you." Regina shrinks back at the Queen's words, a lick of envy spinning up her spine. It's a possibility she hadn't really thought about till this moment. Maybe this version of Robin isn't meant for her, but for the other half of her.

"Care for a drink, Regina? You look like you could use one." The Queen spins, her nose brushing into Robin's neck as she pats his chest, turning them both back to the liquor cabinet. "I will say I am partial to appletinis, but I am sure there is something else you can find."

Regina doesn't move, seethes on the spot, "What do you want?" The royal twirls theatrically, palms raised in the air, "Isn't it obvious. I want to destroy you and everyone in this ridiculous town."

So nothing's changed.

"You know if I die, you go with me."

The Queen taps a long fingernail to her lips, pouting wolfishly as she leans back into Robin. "That may be true, but who says I haven't decided to keep you alive, let you watch me take everyone from you instead."

For what it's worth, Robin does cock an eyebrow behind the Queen's back, his blue eyes frowning up at Regina. He looks uncertain. And uncertainty towards villainy has to be a good thing. Perhaps she can use that against the Queen. But if it's not, Regina resigns herself to do what is necessary. She will take the Queen down, and give her own life to ensure her family stays safe.

"Drink, Regina, it's going to be a long night for you." The Queen hands her a red stemmed martini, the smell of vodka thick and cloyingly sweet. Regina's stomach turns, as she places the glass on the table beside her, rolling her eyes at the Queen's shrug to suit herself and sips her own drink down greedily.

Regina stares at the intricate design on the Queen's cloak, nausea boiling in her throat at the sight of what she once was, who she once was. If she does nothing, what was the point of splitting herself in the first place. No. This ends now. Her hands spark, separating Robin and the Royal at lightning speed, and she hopes he understands why he is suddenly slammed into her office chair, ropes tying quick around his wrists. She needs him out of the way, out of harm's way as she does what's necessary.

"Now, Regina, don't do something you are going to regret." The Queen growls, irritated at the flurry of magic that forced her in a direction she didn't want. Well, no matter. If Regina wants a fight, that's exactly what she will give her.

They stand, feet apart in the office, Robin struggling against his bonds in the chair beside Regina. A fire blooms in her hand, "I won't let you destroy this town."

The Queen's palm swirls dark purple, a sword in hand and her eyebrow arches toward Regina. "How about we do this the old fashion way. I'd like to see you bleed."

She swallows thickly, vanishes the fire in her hand and gripping the cold hilt of a sword herself. Her mind flicks briefly to Henry, and she hopes to God he understands why she has to do this. "Regina stop, don't do this." Robin growls beside her, his eyes wide and if she didn't know better he looks afraid. For her or the Queen she isn't exactly sure. The flash of metal tears her eyes away from his, blocking the Queen's blow though it shakes up her arm painfully. She hasn't done this in a while, had to defend herself without magic, it's unsettling. The Queen lunges again, stabbing through the air, barely missing Regina's side. "Oh come on now, Regina, at least make it a challenge for me. Or have you gone soft?" She snarls, lashing out once more.

Robin sits defenceless and in utter shock as he watches the pair trade blows, back and forth, clashing metal on metal. This isn't what he signed up for. To sit in a chair bound and watch the death of either of them. It strikes him in the heart, the fear he has not for the Queen, but for Regina. For the first time in a long time he is genuinely terrified for her wellbeing. Flexing his fingers, his fist curls into a ball, wriggling and wrenching against the rope, if he can just get enough room between it and his skin, he can help her. The sharp clang of another attack makes him flinch as he sees Regina dodge just barely. He's running out of time.

The Queen laughs darkly as she circles Regina, a predator stalking its prey. All she needs is to subdue her. Then she can go on with rendering this town to ash while she forces her nauseating soft half to watch. It's what she deserves after trying to escape her darkness, crushing the Queen's heart. It's a interesting thought the Queen has long pondered. If she doesn't have her heart, can she still die while her soul is still technically connected to Regina's. Regardless, it's a chance she doesn't particularly want to dally with, just in case.

She can see the heavy breath Regina swallows, the fear in her eyes, hidden pathetically behind a farce of determination. It's too easy. She waits, long enough for a split second when Regina's eyes flicker to Robin's face, poor thing all strung up, she'll have to tend to him later. But the moment Regina isn't watching, she swings, making contact with flesh, revelling in the sharp cry Regina screams out, the hand that flies to her chest, coming away covered in blood. Her own hands move to her chest, and there isn't a mark on her skin. Perfect.

She stalks closer to Regina cowering on the floor, gasping for breath through the pain. Maybe she will simply splice her enough times to have her pass out a fraction from death. It's a tantalizing thought as she steps into Regina's space, watching the dark oozing blood seep and ruin the red blouse. Shame, she likes the color on her. "You can't beat me, Regina." She coos softly, brushes back a fallen lock of hair from the other woman, tracing her fingers along the line of sweat that beads at her temple. Her gaze holds Regina's shaky one, glinting in madness, "I am stronger than you. I always have been. You can't win and you know it." She smiles, pressing the blade of her sword into the supple flesh of Regina's side, soaking in the way it shears the skin, slices through the muscle, the choked sob Regina lets out. The wound seeps blood out onto the Queen's dress.

It's all hazy and white hot, the chill of the tile on her back doing nothing to abate the furious fire that spikes across her body. She can hear the Queen's voice, humming and musing and she slides her blade across her stomach, teasing another puncture. She gasps and falls in and out of consciousness as it pierces her flesh again, just under her left breast, falling too close to her heart. She's going to die. Is going to be the latest victim of the Queen's hand. And it's entirely her fault. She shouldn't have come here, she shouldn't have thought she would win without help, she should never have split herself in the first place. Its her fault. It always is.

The buzzing in her brain attempting to radiate off the pain that licks violently about her body is awful, being on the brink of death, hanging on by a simple fraying thread. Maybe she'll get to see her father again, maybe Daniel will be there when she falls into death's grasp. A beat of hope at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Robin,  _her_  Robin will be there. Perhaps death isn't such a terrible fate after all.

She can't hear much, not with the ringing in her ears, but the Queen is breathing heavy above her, the trail of her fingernails tracing sharply up Regina's throat. The wet pooling of blood soaks into her back, and it's all becoming so hazy, and so easy to just let go. But what happens if she does? If she gives into death and leaves the world behind who will be there to protect her family? A family she never expected to have, but is terrified for none the less. The Queen chuckles into Regina's face, presses a kiss to the brow of her forehead, and wipes away the sweat that beads along her temples. She's relishing this moment. Regina can feel it. Knows the feeling from a life she's desperately tried to escape.

Her head lolls to the side, eyes fuzzy but she can see the hilt of her sword lying just to the right, a few scant inches away in what looks to be the trailing line of her seeping blood. If she could just reach it. If she could just manage to grab it-silently hissing at the pain rocketing up her arm, she moves her fingers, as slowly as possible, lest the Queen see what she is trying to do. How can a few inches seem like a bloody mile? She bumps it, flinches and then reaches again. It feels heavy, so damn heavy in her hand, utterly impossible to find the inner strength to lift it. But Henry's eyes swim into her vision, and she can't leave him, not with the Queen terrorizing the town. It's with that, she grips the handle blade, her other hand curling around the bicep of her darker self, gripping tight into the silk fabric. She just needs to catch her breath, pull in enough oxygen for one last swing.

"You know, together we could rid ourselves of everyone here." She coo's darkly, bending down over top of her. "Everyone that has done us wrong." Her breath hot and curling about in smoky tendrils "And I think, we should start with the Charmings. All three of them. One by one. And then Henry will be only mine."

Regina winces that the pressure of the Queen's body slowly sinking on top of her, a spike of agony blazing into her vision. Teeth clenched to hold back her outcry, she focuses as best as her fading vision will allow, "He's my son." and twists the blade slowly out of the Queen's view.

"Technically he's ours."

"No."

"No?"

"You won't ta-take him from m-me."

"And just what are you going to do about it." The monarch laughs with a shake of her head, dark sapphire jewels rattling about on her earrings.

It's now or never. Muster every ounce of strength she has, Regina screams, throws her arm up, slams the blade into the Queen's side, a pitched cry tears about the office as her dark half slumps down, colliding into Regina's chest, writhing as the sword pierces her flesh, twisting into her lung, and spilling blood into the white tile floor, mixing with Regina's own expanding puddle.

For a moment it all stands still, stunned royal chocolate eyes meeting dying hazy brown ones, a flicker of fear passing through both. "I could have given you everything." The Queen growls "Us everything." Blood trickles from the her snarled lips, dotting down onto Regina's shoulder, and it's all beginning to fade, the colors around her darkening, sounds fading away.

She can feel the shaking breath against her chest, the warmth leaving the Queen's body. "I don't need you." Regina manages to whisper as death draws her down, "I never did." Her eyes close, the last exhale trembling out as she gives in, she just hopes Henry will understand.

.

..

…

..

.

Robin is stunned, half untied from his chair as he watches Regina leave this world, his heart aching at the sight he played a part in her demise. How could he be so stupid to fall into the Queen's trap. He was bait. He should have known. Ripping his remaining bound hand from the metal armchair, he sinks to his knees over both of them, rolling the Queen off Regina's body, and there is just soo much blood. Hot and sticky on his palms as they find the whitening pallor of the Queen's cheek. Her eyes roll in and out of focus, shakily gripping onto his own.

"I just…" she coughs, flinching against the pain in her side, "...wanted us to be happy." He knows  _us_  is meant for she and Regina. And for a woman who has caused so much death and destruction, at the core, she only wanted what everyone does, a happy ending. Robin sinks at her words, cupping her cheek gently, "I'm sorry." And he is. Sorry for this aching feeling he can't quite understand, but is gutting.

"She loved him. I - I loved him." Again, it's not him she is talking of, but the other Robin, a phantom of a man taken from both of them. He sighs, doing his best to smile through the hot lining of tears, "I know." He doesn't know what compels him to do it, to lean down over the Queen's failing body and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, he may have only known her for a barely a day, but it seems like a lifetime, a lifetime where maybe he could have been enough for her, for both of them. She hitches in her breath, grinding her teeth as her dark heavy lashes flutter, and he wants to say something to bring her peace, but as his lips part from her skin, her eyes sink, and the Evil Queen of the Enchanted Forest takes her last breath.

Falling back from her, the burning lump in his throat catches the sob that tries to break out. How can he possibly be mourning this woman after only a day. Surely it can't be love. At least he doesn't think it is...his eyes sway tearily over to Regina, who lays ungodly still. His fingers search to find her pulse, his heart cracking at the barely there thumping in her neck. He's seen death enough times to know there is no hope for her. For either of them.

Turning his shoulders from the Queen, he leans over Regina, tracing her features with his fingers, down the slope of her nose, the high arch in her brow, across delicate eyelashes lining her eyes. It's not hard to see why the other Robin had fallen in love with her, had given his life for her without a second though, a jarring notion slipping through him at the thought he wishes he could have done the same. Curling over her body, he does the same as he just had with the Queen, placing a soft gentle kiss instead however not to her forehead, but to her lips, flinching fractionally at the chilled rigidity that has already settled into them.

It's in the second his lips touch her fully that a glow beams from both her and the Queen. A bright white hot light pulsing erratically around the room and Robin stares frozen as the Queen laying face towards the sky, slowly fades into a purple swirl of magic, whisping around the room frantically, before fading from existence, and then it's just him and Regina. He fixes onto the spot the Queen had just been, now empty of her body, and it's strange, the want that bubbles in his gut, the fire that heats at the thought he will never see her again. It's...enraging, devastating and wholly unfair. Maybe he did love her. But then again...his eyes flick back down to Regina's stillness, maybe it's not the Queen he'd been falling for.

The air charges and something doesn't feel right, the base of his spine tingles, sparks and climbs through his bones, ripping into the muscles and veins, scrambles across his chest and laces tight into the meaty flesh of his heart. It burns, he clutches a hand over his heart, the one that holds Regina's hand, grits his teeth as the fire rolls into his brain, and he falls beside Regina, unconscious.

.

..

…

..

.

Something is chirping, a high pitched annoying sing songy thing. She hates birds. Well, that's not true, but at this hour it's downright evil for them to be waking her up. Her mind blurs for a moment, hang on, where the hell is she? It's definitely not her bed, the ground certainly not soft enough to match her goose-down, and it's clearly not her office sofa either. She searches silently into her brain, when did she fall asleep? She'd just been on her way to warn Robin about the Queen….oh. Oh she's dead. This is what death feels like. Uncomfortable ground and irritating birds.

The white haze still lingers as she comes to, her back clicking and popping as she arches slighting, clearly she's been laying on the ground for quite some time...wherever the hell she is. It's a bit fuzzy still, in her senses, but she can tell that it's clean and fresh and curiously smells like the forest. Explains the birds she grumbles, wincing as she sits up slow. It's definitely dirt under her palms, a slight dampness to the air, but it feels warm, and oddly comforting in a way she doesn't quite understand.

Forest indeed. There is nothing but trees and thick foliage bushes around her. Odd. It doesn't look like the underworld. The sky holds none of that ungodly repulsive shade of pink, nor does it stink like stale morning breath. Quite the opposite in fact. The colors almost seem to vibrant in their hue, the air too pure as it slides into her lungs with velvet ease. She rises slowly, eyeing up her new surroundings, her hands moving from the mossy dirt below to skim up her ribs, and well that's new...her clothes are different. Gone is the black skirt and red blouse, it's all grey wide legged slacks, white button up shirt, long black coat and a silver scarf.

Her heart stops.

She's wearing the same outfit the day she kissed Robin in Storybrooke for the first time.

All of it is the same, the bracelet that jingles on her wrist, the shade of dark red painted on her fingernails, she can even feel the weight of her gold chain resting on her breastbone, it's all just the same, well except for her hair which still curls tight against her jawline. But there is no blood staining her skin, no sharp blinding pain, not even a nick on her body from the Queen's blade that pierced her body just minutes ago.

For a second she simply stands in the middle of the bright forest clearing, stares up and around at the sun attempting to peek behind pine, moss and emerald green leaves, the soft cerulian blue of the sky patterned in between, a light warmth whispering wind ghosting around her. This place, it...it feels calm, in a way she hasn't felt in a very long time.

Humming curiously to herself she lets her feet lead, not really questioning which direction to go, just follows a dirt beaten path that winds between ferns and spruce, moisture beading on the leaves, wetting her fingertips as she brushes them away and quietly sinks deeper into the forest.

It looks familiar, eerily similar to a place she already knows by heart, the same pathway separated by bundles of holly hock bushes, the trickling of the small stream just to her left behind the bank. Her heart thuds heavy as she walks around the corner, clenching as she presses her hand to the thick sturdy bark of the oak tree she knows she's leaned against before.

Twice actually.

When she'd stood from so far away, silently watching Robin and Roland playing together in their camp, her heart so terrified at the prospect that she'd found her soulmate, after all that time, he was right there in front of her. The trunk had been her refuge a second time that seems so long ago, when hope finally had beat off relentless pessimism, and she'd walked into this exact same clearing, swallowing her nerves and kissed the love of her life for the very first time.

A sad smile crosses her lips at the memories, it's almost like she can see him again, sitting there on the log, poking at the fire, that perfect serene look that seemed to hug him whenever he was in the forest painted across his features. She misses him. Longs to hear the sound of his voice whispering to her at night, feel the warmth in his hands roaming her skin, the bright mischievousness of his eyes before he'd kiss her without warning.

It strikes her then, imagining Robin here with her that perhaps  _this_  is her " _better place"_ as Hades so profoundly put it back in the Underworld. Maybe everyone goes somewhere different when they move on, maybe each person goes back to where they last felt safe, where love seemed to flourish, back to where home was.

"Hello My Love."

TBC.


	37. The Proverbial White Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3/3 of Darkness Meets Darkness Mini Verse.

 

"Hello My Love"

She freezes, breath stalling in a painful hitch at the sound of his voice, a voice she has been clinging to for months, one that is seeming to be right behind her all of a sudden. It can't be though. He isn't here, he is somewhere else, somewhere she can never bring him back from. This is just her imagination running wild thanks to the memories of being in the forest with him. That's all this this. A facade. A farce. An impossible reality.

When she closes her eyes, she still isn't really sure, but her other senses heighten in the blindness. She tries to breathe, counting in a slow five seconds as she pulls in air, holds it for four and lets it seep out her nose in a seven second breath. Again and again she does it, goes to draw in a third inhale, but there is crinkling of dead shrubbery on the ground crunching under behind her, a sharp contrasting noise, she pleads it to be from his boots, leather and worn making their way towards her. The air is warm on her skin, warmer than a few moments ago, her heart beating frantically when the sound suddenly stops, halts dead quiet and there is nothing but the sound of her shaky breath and the ripple of wind through the forest. The forest. It smells like forest. Thick and vibrant in the overwhelming pine.

"Regina?" She clenches again at the soft whisper of his voice, inhales it greedily through her nose, and staggers in a dizzy sway on the spot. Her balance shifts, the world tilts on it's axis, pulling her sideways. Her knees begin to buckle, and she waits to fall. But something tentatively touches her hips. Ten fingers brush against her, two palms burn like wildfire into her skin beneath the wool coat. She leans desperately into it, the touch that is throwing everything out of proportion and yet keeping it all steady at the same time. The hands that hold her waist slowly move around her stomach, anchoring her back to the sounding beat of a heart. His heart.

Perhaps this isn't heaven, but hell. Getting the chance to feel him breathing again behind her, to feel him so close, it's torture.

Tears flame into her squeezed shut eyes, brimming thickly into her lashes as they fall onto her warm cheeks, winding slowly down in heavy droplets as she feels his stubble scratch against her cheek. She stills, freezes in place. He feels so real.

"I missed you." Her words catch in her throat. It's near painful how much she truly has missed him. How terribly she has longed for him to hold her like this again. So so much. Her fingers shake as they feel the skin on the back of his hands around her abdomen. He feels so real. So god damn unbelievably real. The speckling of light hairs on his hands, the round dullness of his fingernails, even the coarse texture where she knows the built up calluses from years of living in the forest are.

"I've missed you as well my love." He sighs into her, letting her fingers twine into his own.

She lets her eyes flutter open, blurred by the tears, but she can see their hands are laced together, a feeling she's longed to have back. "Are you real?" Her words stumble but her eyes refuse to turn from the trees in front of her, her entire body frozen to the spot, terrified that if she turns around he won't be there, that this is just a trick of the mind.

He smiles against her temple, "In a sense I suppose." His lips pressing a lingering kiss to her hair, and she feels him start to turn her, and regardless of the fearful pumping of her heart that this is a lie, she lets him do it, move her body one hundred and eighty degree around. She wobbles in her heels as his frame comes into view.

It's just how she remembers him, a perfect picture she's branded into her mind. The worn dark brown trousers, thick green coat, beige shirt draped over his chest, framing his body up to the burgundy scarf that hangs from his neck. She can't look up. Can't find the strength to trace the muscles of his neck that will surely fade into the hard line of his stubbled sandy blonde jaw where his dimples lay hidden. She can't bring herself to trace his thin pink lips with her eyes, opting to use her fingers to do so as she stares at the way his chest pulls in a breath and lets it go steadily, over and over again. He is smiling, that she can feel through the shake of her hands that cup his cheeks, thumbs smooth over his beard beneath the slope of his straight nose. His hands hold her close, encased at the base of her spine, letting her wander blindly up to the bridge of his brow, running through his tousled hair, and back to his eyes he shuts for her.

"Let me see you." He begs quietly, tilting her chin up with two fingers, before he follows her path, and runs his hand over the smooth porcelain of her cheek, anchoring behind her ears and through her hair, "Open your eyes My Love." She lets out a scared shudder, a tear falling for a moment before his thumb brushes it away, as her lashes flutter open, and the world stands still.

Crystal bright blue, rimmed in dark ocean coloring, the dotting of hazel and gold flecks, it holds her eyes like a vice. They are everything she has dreamed about and more. And it's all there. The hope, the curiosity, the love. It swims and burns into her gut.

"Hi."

She squeaks shyly, disbelieving that he is truly standing in front of her, alive and breathing, touching her, holding her tight to him. He smiles back, dimples on full display as his eyes shine in tears that match her own.

"Hi."

She moves, or he does, she isn't completely sure, but it doesn't matter, not when her arms swing around his neck, his chest melting into her own as she hugs him, fierce and unrelenting, and he does nothing but hold her tight back, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck.

Heaven. This has to be heaven. Only something this...this...perfect could be the eternal happily ever after she's craved for years. "You're here." She cradles into him, carding through the short hairs on the back of his head, "You're real."

Tears be damned, she is crying uncontrollably, smiling through every droplet, but crying nonetheless, because for once, hope, long lost hope suddenly blooms in her heart again, and it's a very welcome feeling.

She hears him muffle into her hair that he is here, that he has missed her so much, so much it's painful. His hands wrap a little tighter, a heavy breath puffing hot into the nape of her neck as he buries a little further into her, a little closer, a little more, always more.

They stand, beneath the shade of oak trees, in between thick pine and underbrush, for what seems like hours, and she doesn't care. Hasn't a single thought in her mind but to hold him forever and even longer than that. Robin however pulls back a fraction, his nose nuzzling against her cheek and he swivels his head enough to catch her eyes again.

He simply stares at her. Wanders her face with his gaze, holding her cheeks in his hands, brushing back a lock of hair from her face. "You're so beautiful." He smiles, and she can see the tears cloud his eyes. It's not happy tears though. Not with the crease in his brow that follows, nor the downturning of his lips into a small frown. "I'm sorry Regina."

Well of all the things she expected him to say, that was not it. She grimaces, uncertain guilt licking up her spine as she shakes her head, "You have nothing to be sorry for." The smile she tries to placate him with doesn't do much, his expression barely changes, but he pulls her face gently to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her forehead before leaning his own against hers. "You shouldn't be here."

"And where exactly am I?" Her nose bumps his, and he does smile at that. Their own secret little love sentiment. She lets her fingers card through his hair, soft and smooth just like she remember it, and maybe it doesn't matter where she is. This seems good enough.

"I honestly don't know. I've been here ever since…" He swallows. She feels the pain he can't quite voice. They trade a sad smile, "Since you died." Robin nods, blowing out a heavy breath through his nose as he leans back into touch his forehead to Regina's. "I never meant to leave you."

"Robin." She tilts her chin up so their eyes can meet. "You saved my life. You saved your daughter's life." Her fingers wipe away the tears that fall from him, "I am the one who is sorry."

"Oh Regina, no."

"Hush." She smiles, silencing him with two fingers on his lips. Her lungs burn as she looks over his face, at the little creases in the corners of his eyes, the small flecks of gray hair lining his temples. "That was my fault."

"No-"

"I said shush."

He grins, nips at her fingers, an action that stirs deep in her gut. "You died because I wanted to believe in my sister. In the possibility of redemption for her. I wanted to trust her." She sighs, running her spare hand back through his hair. "I knew better. In my heart. I knew that I should never have given your daughter so freely away to her. That was not fair of me."

"Regina."

"Do you ever listen." She chides him gently for speaking again. And something hits her. A deep rooted wrench in her gut that soaks into her bones. She's missed him so much and having him here, being able to talk to him, to feel him again, she may never get this opportunity again.

"Robin." He looks up at her softly. "I love you."

He beams at her. Bright like the sun, overwhelmingly blinding as his lips brush over her own, "And I you." She kisses him, or he kisses her. Either way, she drinks in his taste her mouth has been longing for. The proverbial fountain in a desert. She wobbles as he moves in harder, teasing her tongue with his own, popping and nipping at her lower lip, creating a burning wildfire up and down her spine as she clings to him tighter, losing herself in him. It's been too long. A shiver licks at her skin when his hands run up her back, around to the front, resting just below her breasts, squeezing gently at her ribcage, a leg pressing into her own, guiding her back slowly. She follows. She always will. Moves cautiously with trust as the mulch beneath their shoes crunches until her back is met with the sturdy bark of a tree trunk. She groans into him, wedging her legs between his, inhaling his fervour as his fingers brush along the buttons of her blouse, thumbing them provocatively.

She wants him. Wants this. Wherever she is, it doesn't matter, he is here, and that is good enough. He whispers that he loves her, mouthing his way across her jaw, up to that point behind her ear that makes her knees shake. He tells her between each kiss. Down her neck, and over the growing expanse of exposed skin on her chest, he loves her. She wants to tell him she loves him too, but her mind is dizzy, sparking and muddy when he shoves her coat from her shoulders, pooling the fabric on the dirt ground. He loves her with every button he pops open, every taste his tongue takes over the swells of her breasts. Her shirt follows suit quite quickly, floating down as his hands roam her body, over the curves and across the expanse of her stomach.

His breath puffs hot against her breasts as he pulls back, his eyes closed as he grips her hips tight, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I shouldn't be—"

She cocks an eyebrow at him, removing his coat and scarf in quick succession before her fingers tug at the white cotton fabric that hides his body from her. "I didn't tell you to stop." He groans at that, possibly also at the feeling of her hands running along the bareness of his torso as she throws his shirt over his head, her nails scratching gently at the hair between his pecs. It feels good, so bloody good, and he does want her, more than he can actually form words to say. She is giving him those eyes, the ones that are dark and seductive, sparkling with mischief as he watches her hands lace between his own, moving it up slowly to cup her lace clad breasts. They are soft, so god damn soft and perfect in his palms as he squeezes them gently.

She watches him battle between his gentlemanly side and the side she really wants from him, that hungry overwhelming desire to take everything she will give to him. If the way her hips rock up and down his thick, tense thigh, she is more than willingly to give it all to him. She always is.

Always.

Leaving his hands to attend to her breasts and pluck teasingly at her nipples, she makes her way back to his body, curling around his arms, feeling the strength they hold her up with, the way his stomach flexes and tenses at her nails moving to run along the band of his trousers. She smiles at the hitch in his breathing, the way his tongue peeks out to wet his lips as he stares down at her hands. And she thinks he is finally about to give in, what with the provocative moan that escapes him.

"Regina, wait." She huffs, as he stills her hands on his unbuttoned pants, inhaling heavily for a second before catching her eye. "We need to talk first."

"Talk?"

He nods, kissing her lips gently, "Talk first, then if you allow, I'd like to ravish you."

Well… that could be okay. More than okay as she comes back into the reality that she is standing in a forest clearing with Robin… who is technically dead… which should mean that she — "Are we in the afterlife?" She chews on her lip, letting her eyes leave his to look around once more, humming, confused yet amused, "The afterlife is a forest?"

"It changes." He pecks her cheek from behind, lacing their fingers together as he walks them gently to his makeshift camp.

"Changes how?" She sits beside him, well on him, but that's not here nor there, she just wants to be close to him. Watching his eyes as they flutter around the clearing, her fingers can't help but scratch against his stubble softly, a little purr rumbling in his throat at the action as he leans into the affection.

"Well, mainly, yes, it's been the forest, but some days I wake up and I am in your mansion, or your vault, occasionally it's Granny's Diner, but oddly enough wherever I do wake, it's always somewhere that meant something to me."

That's strange, and oddly endearing at the same time. But the afterlife is supposed to be for people to find their better place… so how can he possibly be changing locations? His thumb moves to sweep across her cheek, placating the frown that edges into her brow. "Are you in some sort of limbo?"

"Perhaps?"

"Why?"

He sighs, pressing a kiss to her palm resting on his cheek, "Honestly, I have no idea."

It's unfinished business, it has to be. It was the same in the Underworld with Hades and the residents yet to pass on from there. But what could be keeping him here?

"Is it Roland?"

Robin sighs, a heart heavy thing, the longing on his face clear as day. "I miss him, I feel like the worst father leaving him."

"You can't think like that. Roland knows you died a hero."

"He's so young, Regina." A tear falls from his eyes that she quickly wipes away, pressing a kiss into his hair to hide her own tears. Falling apart won't help him move on. Regardless of the pain in her heart, she needs to be strong for him. "There is so much I still wanted to teach him. So much I am going to miss."

"I know. And I am sorry. For everything." She sniffs, tucking her cheek against his temple, swallowing back her guilt. "You never should have died because of me."

"Regina, no." He pulls back, turning her to face him, sad eyes and all, "I wouldn't take any of it back."

"But you're right. Roland is going to grow up without a father. I never wanted that."

"I know, but it's not your fault." She tries to turn from him, but he cups her cheeks, holding her to him, "It's not. Don't you dare think that way. Not for a second, Regina, do I regret giving my life for you. I'd do it again."

This is why he is too good for her, why she doesn't deserve him. It's not fair that the once Evil Queen was allowed to have this man love her so much that he died for her. It's not right. None of this is right. He shouldn't be here.

"You know, I've been allowed to get a glimpse into what's been going on since I've been gone." He interrupts the cycling words of her self loathing, and she cocks an eyebrow at him, wiping away her tears as she frowns. "There are mirrors here, and sometimes they let me see you."

"How?"

"Honestly I don't know, but I can show you if you'd like?"

She nods, stands from his lap and lets him lead her through the forest, between the trees until he stops at the crest of a hill, and there it is. The mirror kept in her vault, hanging against the bark of a solid tall oak tree. He stands behind her, holding her hips as she traces the dark onyx lines of the glass, watching as it swirls purple in front of her eyes, and her office swims into view.

It's her. Lying there in a pool of drying blood, cold and horridly still in her black pants and crimson blouse, chocolate brown hair splayed erratically about her paled face, her limbs draped limply over the tiled floor. It's strange and unsettling, to see herself dead. The sight has her heart twisting, and she hears Robin grimace behind her, landing a row of kisses along her shoulder and up to her cheek, a mumbled,  _I'm so sorry,_ echoing into her ear as her eyes flick over to the wish realm version of him, laying beside her, the lack of breath in his body stealing her lungs. She doesn't really remember him being there in the office, the memory is just the clashing of steel and hot piercing pain.

"Is he dead?" She panics, it's bad enough she is the reason  _her_  Robin died, but to be held responsible for putting this other Robin in danger, the guilt bubbles deep, "What's wrong with him?"

He doesn't answer, at least not right away, takes a moment to compose himself from seeing her still body in the mirror, a sight he never wanted to witness. "I think…" He blows out a breath, "I think he is the reason why I am still here."

"What? Why? How is that possible?"

Robin chuckles at Regina's confusion. While he would explain it to her, his idea over this residual feeling in his gut, the tether that's kept him here for a month's wandering, he can't figure out how to put it into words, doesn't exactly know the finite details. Maybe it's better to not confuse her more, perhaps it's best to just whisper into her ear that he loves her once more. She smiles into his words, leans into his body for a moment, but there are still questions she has.

"Do you know why you are here? Why you haven't moved on?"

He pecks her cheek and guides her back between the trees to the clearing she'd found him in. If they are going to have this conversation and try to figure out this tight rope in his chest that won't allow him to leave, he'd rather be back in the comfort of his camp where he can build her a fire, and snuggle her body into his own. A feeling he's longed to have again.

Regina doesn't say much as they make their way back, just lets him lead her wherever he wants to go, it simply feels nice to be holding his hand again, being here with him again, even if here means she is not among the living anymore. A fleeting thought that they could spend all of eternity together crosses her mind, she doesn't have to be separated from him anymore. But that leaves Henry, and the glow in her heart dims at that. In the clearing, she sits on the log,  _their_  log, smiles as he kisses her hand and lets it go, turning to stoke up a fire, the warmth immediately hitting her cooled skin now that night has begun to settle. She watches, and he sends her a wink that makes her tingle from tip to toe, a blush rising deep in her cheeks. She holds his eyes as he sits down beside her, linking their hands together and running his thumb across the expanse of the palm.

"It's hard to explain, but when I died, I…" He frowns, trying to figure out the words, her gentle nudge for him to keep going as she presses her side into him, a relief from the confusion riddling his brain. "I spent a while in a white fog. There was nothing around, just white light. I figured it was the afterlife, but then I started to hear something." He turns to find her staring at him intently, a single eyebrow arching high in question. "I could hear you." Make that two eyebrows near touching her hairline in surprise.

"You could hear me? Like in memories?"

"No, that's the thing. At first I thought maybe that's what it was… but I could hear you, or your thoughts as they were occurring right now. Muffled and distant, but it was still you." He smiles for a second, before sadness clouds his features, "I listened to you rip yourself in two, I could hear the anger and confusion in your mind the second before you did it."

"You could hear my thoughts?"

Robin shrugs, hopes that she doesn't see this as an invasion of privacy, he doesn't want that, just wants to explain how her voice has been following him every second of every day. He's heard it all. The way she cried at night missing him, missing his son, felt the rooted anguish that wrapped around her day in and day out.

The most startling was probably that he could also hear the Queen, after their separation. He had two voices battling in his brain, yet both saying the same thing, they missed him. Both of them. Even through the Queen's rage, at the quietest moments in the night, her thoughts would wander to him, baffled by the  _other_ Robin's presence, at war with herself over what she was going to do about Regina and Snow White. It was oddly amusing, listening to her inner monologue. Yes, she may have been hellbent on revenge, but underneath it all, she was just riddled with pain, dejected and lashing out at the fact that Regina had wanted to throw her away.

He spent many hours sitting against this log, listening to them quietly. Sometimes it was just Regina, heartbroken and regretful, the low glow of her voice asking to no one in particular to help her, to give her something to hope for, to look for how to defeat the Queen, how to be happy again. It caused his heart to ache, hearing her muffled tears seeping from her soul, and that's how he figured it out.

He is tied to this place, this in between because they are soulmates, he can't move on until they are united again. And while he is thrilled she is here and he can have the chance to hold her, it also means they are both lost to the living, and that is a thought that breaks him.

"Robin?"

"Sorry, love, just thinking."

"About?"

"Everything. I have sat here for weeks listening to you, hearing your pain, your loss and confusion and I felt helpless that I couldn't tell you I was there, that there was nothing I could do to ease your mind."

She kisses his cheek, tucks herself tighter into his side, doesn't say anything because she isn't really sure there is anything she can say. He's right. She did wander alone in the darkness, unknowing how to fix everything, how to find some light again. Perfect masks in place in front of everyone else be damned, inside she was spiralling.

"When you found this other version of me, your voice suddenly became sharp and clear, and the fog I had been walking through lifted and I was here. In this forest, standing beside our log, and I think it's because no matter what version of us there is, we are still soulmates, I am still always going to be tethered to you in some way."

"You think you've been waiting for me here?"

"I do."

It's oddly romantic, in its own strange, bizarre way, and Regina can't help the tug on her lips, nor the flutter in her stomach. "Can you still hear my thoughts?"

"You mean right now?" Robin tilts his chin down, eyes sparkling cheekily. She lets him stare for a few seconds, not quite ready to break the contact, her teeth peeking out to bite down on her lip playfully as his gaze shifts to her mouth, for a second only before returning to her eyes.

"Well…" He hums as she moves to straddle his lap, linking her arms around his neck as they settle hip to hip, her thighs encasing his own. "I believe…" his hands snake up her back, and then back down to rest on the dip in her spine, "that you are thinking…" Regina smiles, arches into his hands and plays with the hairs on the nape of his neck, tugging gently as she sighs into him, "you love me."

She blinks, blushes momentarily, before shrugging, "You got me." Leaning down she captures his lips, inhaling the soft, sweet taste of him, swallowing the moan that rumbles in his throat, and sinks down further into his arms, letting his tongue tease her own.

He pulls back first, chuckles at the pout his eyes are met with, "I love you, Regina."

"I know."

Her lips melt to his once more, and something white hot licks up her spine, burns into her heart, and her muscles tense around him. Surely he can feel it too, the way he digs a little harder into her hips, groans and presses his mouth to hers more firmly. It flushes, sweeps across her skin, her hair flying erratically in the hot wind, and it's like electricity, sparking and zapping into her brain, almost painful, charing wherever her fingers touch Robin, smoldering like Dragonfire in her stomach. There is a rough tug at the base of her spine, a heavy gust of pine that invades her lungs, and then just silence. Not a pin drop heard, save for her breath panting. Her eyes are still closed, a dull throbbing in her head has her grimacing, something cold is under her knees, hard and sending a sharp sting into her bones.

"Regina?"

She stills, snapping her eyes open, and his eyes lock onto hers first before anything. She's on his lap, still holding onto his shoulders, straddling his thighs, and he looks terrified, and yet not really. There is confusion and bewilderment, but the longer she looks at him, regaining her breath, the more calm and ease swirls inside his eyes. He's stunned. But happy. Disbelieving for sure, and looks as though he is about to cry.

"Regina… we are in your office."

 _What?_   _How?_

Her eyes break from his own, and her heart clenches tightly. They are certainly in her office, in the office she just died in, but there is no sign of her body.

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"It feels different than the forest."

He nods at that, helping her up off his lap, but keeping her hand tucked into his own. Perhaps they simply transported somewhere else. Something is off though, the air isn't quite as sparkly here, the warmth not as thick.

"Robin… do you think we are…."

"MOM!"

The office door bursts open, and thank god for Robin standing behind her or else she surely would have tipped over with the impact Henry's body smacks into her with. Her hands wrap automatically around him, but her eyes flicker to Robins, who is caught between a frown and a smile. "Are you okay? There was a this massive eruption of magic an hour ago and no one knew where you were!"

_What the hell…_

"I— I'm fine, Henry."

_She is supposed to be dead._

"You promise? What happened? We tried to break in here but magic locked us out. Was the Queen here?"

_The Queen… where the hell was the Queen…_

"Henry, I—"

"Did she hurt you?" His hazel eyes snap onto hers, fear swimming in them as he clutches to her. "You're okay thought right? I was so scared, Mom."

She is at a total loss as Emma and the Charmings walk into the office equally as confused, they didn't know the Queen had killed her… didn't know she in turn stabbed the Queen… they didn't know any of it…

"I'm okay, Henry. I promise."

Robin's hand squeezes her hand not hugging her son, and she is pulled back to his eyes. They are back. He is here.  _Her_  Robin. She can see his bewilderment, and she has no idea how this is even possible. You can't bring people back from the dead, can you?

Tears spring to her eyes, her breathing rattling at the thought that she has him here again, he is real and breathing right beside her, holding her hand and heart beating strong against her back. "I don't understand how this is possible." She whispers out to no one really, but Henry steps back, perplexed at her words, "I— this doesn't make any sense." She stumbles over her words as the Charmings stare puzzled back at her.

"Henry." Robin's warm tone brushes beside her, and she watches as her son frowns for a moment, his eyes tracing Robin's face silently, confused and disconcerted at the mention of his name. He met the  _other_  Robin, but their interaction had been brief, Henry had exited quickly out of their conversation flustered, it was strange for him too. Seeing another man who looked identical to a father figure he'd just lost, and yet it wasn't the same person at all.

"Henry, it's me."

He stands beside Regina, half a grin etched across his face as he slowly extends a hand out to the younger boy. He can see the hesitancy, understandable given what is going on, and he can see the pain behind questioning eyes.

"How?"

"I don't have a clue to be honest."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Ask me anything. Something only you and I would know."

Regina's heart thunders in her chest as she watches Henry's brow crease though Robin's face remains unchanged from its gentleness. She feels Robin grip her hand an imperceptible fraction tighter as he waits, steady in his breath.

"Henry? I promise—" Regina starts, but is cut off by her son's whispered question.

"Where were we when you told me you loved my mom?" For a moment she is thrown, Robin hadn't even told her yet before he died, hadn't said those three words before he was taken from her, and yet apparently he told Henry? She turns from her son, wide eyed and stunned as Robin's face breaks out into a smile, dimples on full display as a bristle of blush creeps into his cheeks when his eyes glance her way.

"We were in the backyard. After I returned from New York. You were sitting under her apple tree and I came to join you. It became somewhat of a tradition for you and I, talking underneath it."

She didn't know they did that…

"What did you say to me? What were your exact words?" Henry huffs out as tears fill his eyes.

"You were upset that I had left in the first place, were uncertain if you could trust me again, if you could trust me to hold her heart again, and I told you that I loved your mother with everything in my soul, and that I would rather die than put her through that kind of pain again."

Henry smiles, grabs Robin's extended hand, "Next time, don't take it so literally okay?"

Robin laughs as Henry launches himself into his arms, sandwiching himself between his mother and Robin. Regina feels her boys hug her fiercely, feels Robin press a kiss to her temple as he sniffs, the only sound that makes her realize he is crying, that her own tears have fallen and she leans into both of them.

"I don't understand how this is possible." She whispers between them.

And it's not Robin who answers but a very, very, happy Henry, "It doesn't matter."

She smiles because he's right, it doesn't.

Fin.


	38. Mirror Mirror on the Wall

It's been over a year since she has checked in on the Queen, a small little peek into the other woman's life just to make sure that everything is okay, that they are okay. And so far, everything seems good, really good. She's had a couple chuckles over watching this other version of herself lose the royal thickness about her and become a woman of the forest. Long gone are the jewelled cloaks and high heels, all which have been traded in for more sensible clothing, furs, trousers and a bow on her back. It reminds her of the time she herself spent as a bandit, for that moment in time where she had been on the run from an Evil Queen and an outlaw had come to her rescue. It's odd, to watch it play out in real life.

But this other Regina seems happy now that she's stopped grumbling about living in the forest. It suits her. Suits them. And while they may live in a forest, Regina can't help but smile at the fact that apparently you may be able to take a Queen out of her royal castle, but you can't quite take all of royalty out of the Queen. They live comfortably, in a large-ish cottage on a hill surrounded by trees overlooking a lake. Thanks to her magic, they have everything they need, even indoor plumbing, a note Regina did laugh at. But Robin is still Robin. He still hunts and lives off the land, and makes campfires beneath the stars.

She'd watched them one night, tucked on a couch together underneath a blanket, a calm flickering of orange glow from the hearth beating about them as Robin combed through her hair till her eyes closed. She hadn't meant to watch them as long as she had, feeling like a peeping tom and all, but Robin had waited till his Regina was nearly asleep, breathing heavier than a few minutes prior when he rustled gently in his pocket, and pulled out a small little box. She'd watched as his eyes trailed back down to the near asleep woman on his chest, a small smile creeping into his dimples as he kissed her temple and begun to play with her left hand.

Her heart had thundered as she sat silently in her room, absorbed in them and what was about to happen. He'd kissed her cheek, placed a few to her temple, and across her brow until she grinned in her sleep, curling further into his arms, as he pulled her gently awake. The Queen's eyes had drifted blissfully open, contentment swirling about in them, at least until she saw the box Robin had pressed into her palm.

Regina's breath had hitched at the same time the Queen's had, the mirror in her hands creeping closer as she waited to see what the other woman would say, knowing the answer in her heart already. His voice was low, curious and full of love as he asked her the question, the Queen's eyes flickering up from the diamond to his gaze, stunned, before she broke out into a smile, and nodded, pulling him down to meet her lips that ceased to stop grinning. She'd put the mirror down after that, wiped away a few tears she wasn't sure were from longing or happiness. That had been the last time she'd seen them, snuggled together in their home, newly engaged.

She doesn't do it often anymore, gaze into her magic mirror and see how they are, because it feels a bit strange sometimes, to see a life she could have lived going on in front of her eyes. It brings about an ache in her heart, wondering if she and her Robin would have lived this way, happily together. Maybe that's why her checking in on them have been fewer and farther in between over the past two years. She is content that they are happy, that she was able to be a part of making that happen.

But something just felt a little different today, Henry had left for a school trip for a week and she was feeling a bit lonely in her mansion. For a few hours she'd managed to occupy her mind with cooking dinner (for one). Had made apple turnovers she'd not yet touched and had a long bath, even done her nails. And it's only eight o'clock. Too early to fall asleep, nothing to capture her attention on TV, her book long finished.

Humming to herself, she thumbs the mirror on her bedside table, gnawing at the fact she wants to see them, that maybe, for a few minutes she'll allow herself to pretend it's her and Robin instead. Just a few minutes, ten tops. Sinking beneath the covers, she sighs, turning the glass towards her face and whispers out, "Mirror Mirror on the Wall, show me what I want to see most of all." It glows a deep purple, bright and swirling in her palm till the light settles and the image fades into view.

It's day time there, warm sun pooling into an empty living room, though seems no one is home. The thought makes Regina pout, unamused, what is she supposed to do now? Huffing out a breath, she sets the mirror aside, as stares out the window silently. The quiet is nice, she supposes. Not what she wanted, but what can she do about it? Settling into her pillow her eyes flutter shut, and she pictures Robin beside her, or maybe downstairs, frowning adorably at the appliances he'd yet to figure out.

She'd lost a toaster and a coffee pot whilst he was here and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. The sheepish look he'd given her as she'd walked into the kitchen to put out the fire alarm blaring away due to another smoke bomb from a destroyed instrument far too precious to have her irritation even flare a bit. He'd apologized, run his hand through his hair and sighed at the small carnage he'd created. But she hadn't care, would just shrug and kiss him happily, letting her wrist flick and restore the appliance back to it's working state. She liked those moments. Domestic ones between the two of them, it felt like normalcy had finally begun to settle into her life.

A muffled voice cues her attention back to the mirror beside her as she fumbles and flips it back over, light streaming into the cottage as a door swings open and she sees the other Regina walk into the living room, carting a basket on her hip and a smile on her lips. "I'll be right there!" She calls back out over her shoulder, heaving the load from her arms onto the table. Robin must be outside.

She looks different. Her hair tied into a loose braid that swings over her cotton clothed back, face void of all makeup and dirt under her nails. It's not the first time Regina has been amused at the sight of the once regal royal all dirtied up playing house. It's nice. She dusts off her pants, makes her way quickly to the kitchen on the left just out of Regina's view. In the distance she swears she can hear more than just one voice. Robin's certainly, but there is someone else there with him, someone younger. Her heart flutters as a hushed laughter echoes around her. It sounds just like-

"Roland! Come back here."

She freezes under her blankets, jaw dropping and eyes watering as she sees the mop of brown curly hair rush into the cottage. He looks exactly the same, a bit bigger no doubt, with the time that has passed, but his face hasn't changed from the picture in her memory. Big button brown eyes, chubby dimpled cheeks, two new missing front teeth as he shouts cheerfully into the kitchen from the sofa he's landed himself on. His little chest puffs in and out, and Regina can't help the tears that fall, nor the way her fingers trace his face. She misses him so goddamn much. Kicks herself everyday for not being able to figure out how to get to him somehow.

"Hello, my little archer." The Queen smiles as she steps back into the room, flopping herself down beside him, lips playfully coating his cheeks in affection as he squeals in delight beneath her.

Regina's heart clenching at the sight of him moving to settle into the Queen's lap, grinning up at her as his hands part, revealing a perfectly sliced apple, well almost perfectly sliced, one half is surely larger than the other. "I did it!"

"I see that! You're getting better than Robin!"

"Yup!" Roland munches triumphantly on his half he hadn't relinquished into the Queen's hands.

"Oh you think so, eh?" Robin comes into view, his hair tousled on his forehead, a grin beaming as he settles down beside them with a smirk. "Should I tell Little John you're about to take over as the leader of the Merry Men then, yeah?"

"Let him down easy, he's a sensitive guy." The Queen winks as she nuzzles down into Roland's hair. "Speaking of which, he'll be by rather soon to come collect you."

"Awww, Gina, do I have to go?"

The pout he sends her is beautiful, as is the smile she sends back. Regina still sits enraptured on her bed, can't help but feel a flutter in her stomach. They found each other. All of them. How she doesn't know, but what does it matter anyway? It's a perfect picture glowing out from her mirror. "You need to get some sleep or else you will fall asleep on the way tomorrow, and be a little grumpy toad."

"No I won't!"

Robin laughs, laces his fingers behind Roland's back with the Queen's, "Perhaps we can convince him to let you stay the night."

"Yes!"

"We all know he is an easy turn if you show him just how good your archery has gotten, maybe he'll seen reason in letting you stay and practice some more."

Roland bounds between them, whooping and hollering as he grabs his small bow and arrow and races back outside, his cheering still heard from the quiet that surrounds the pair still on the couch. Robin turns his eyes from the doorway back to his wife who leans her head on the soft brown cushions, humming happily when he moves closer to her, draping her legs across his thighs, and tugging her tighter into him with a smiling kiss to her lips. The seemingly innocent kiss suddenly turns into something far more heated, a moan in the back of the Queen's throat has Regina flushing hot, best be time to go.

Her hand begins to wave across the mirror, but her eyes glue to the placing of Robin's hand on the Queen's stomach, and she lets her magic fizzle out. They smile, a bashful blissful thing, eyes meeting one another's before Robin shimmies down between the Queen's thighs, his hands cupping a small swell Regina hadn't noticed before.

"Hello, my boy. How are we this afternoon?"

The Queen cards through his hair, tilts her chin down and smiles as he begins talking to her bump, Regina hanging onto every muffled word and mischievous, cheerful grin he sends back up at his lover before focusing back down to the task of talking to their unborn child. "Now, you stay safe and warm in there and try to ease up on your mother for a while okay?" His kisses the swell and moves back up to buss the former Queen's lips. "We should start thinking of names."

"Already?"

"Why not?"

"Do you have anything in mind?"

Robin bites down on his lip, brow creasing as he scoots back down to the barely there bump. "Well, my father's name was Richard."

"Baby Boy Richard?" She cringes hard.

They both lock eyes before sharing a laugh, Robin shaking his head, "A definite no."

"What about Rigel?"

"Rigel Locksley?"

The Queen shrugs, "I kind of like it."

"As do I. And for a middle name?"

Regina soaks in the moment. Little Rigel. She wonders if he will look like Robin, or maybe a smaller version of Roland, her complexion to Marian is close enough anyway. And when the Queen whispers out a name, Regina's heart stills, eyes flush with new tears.

"Henry?"

"I know that you didn't really know him, either of them, my father or my son, but I'd like to…"

Her words are cut off by another melting of Robin's lips to her own. "Say no more, Rigel Henry Locksley it is."

"You're sure?"

"Of course, my love. It's perfect."

They settle in together, lacing their hands over their baby boy safe in Regina's belly.

"You're sure you want to go tomorrow? We can wait a few days for you to feel better you know."

"I'm okay."

"You sure? You're only a few weeks along, we don't even have to go."

She kisses him again, slow and steady before nodding, "I promise I'm fine, it's not as bad as it was with Rae, that's for sure." Her eyebrows arch momentarily, "Plus, we promised Roland we'd take him."

"He'd understand if you aren't feeling up to it." He rubs down her legs and back up her arms, saddling a fraction closer to her on the sofa.

"I know, he's a good little boy, but I swear, I'm okay."

"You'd tell me if you weren't right? We can turn around anytime you want."

He frowns, though the Queen chuckles, "You worry too much."

She bumps his nose with her own as he sighs through a laugh, "I know, but it's only cause I love you're cooking and can't imagine having to go back to eating boiled rabbit." He jests at her, dimples on full display, as she scoffs, slaps his chest half heartedly.

"That's why you married me? For my cooking skills?"

"Well that," he leans in to catch her lips once more, "and maybe a few other things."

Clearly something, no matter the realm or version never changed.

She huffs, pecks his lips a few times more, "Roland's waiting. I'll be right there."

Robin smiles through his lingering concern, nuzzling into her neck for a few well placed kisses before extracting himself from her body, letting his hand circle across her stomach a few more times. "Speaking of little ones, shouldn't she be up by now?"

"Probably, if we want to actually get some sleep tonight." The Queen hums, running her own hands along the small swell as Robin stands, kissing her forehead one last time before whispering gently, "I'll see you outside, my love."

Regina watches as Robin leaves the Queen still smiling on the couch, soothing her hand over her stomach. This she certainly wasn't expecting to see… an expecting version of herself. Where she'd figured envy would creep in, there is nothing. Well not nothing, there is a bubble of calmness that surrounds her as she smiles at the sight.

"Mama?" A little voice calls from up the stairs.

"Coming baby!" The Queen stands, and skips up the steps quickly and Regina can't help but wait to see what their daughter looks like, what her and Robin's daughter may have looked like. The room grows quiet as she sits up taller against the headboard, brushing a lock behind her ear, she needs a haircut, desperately so. But Robin liked it long, and she can't really find it in her to shear it again. Oh well, unruly waves be damned, it will stay this length at least for a little while longer.

The sound of footsteps and happy bubbling laughter brings her eyes back to the mirror, the brown boots of the Queen coming into view first, her thighs and then a small dangling pair of matching boots at her waist. It's all long brown curls hiding a little face burrowed into her mother's neck. She can't be more than twelve months, a baby still. A beautiful giggle muffled by the Queen's own humming chuckle as she balances her daughter on her hip, whispering something Regina can't quite catch.

"Shall we go see your daddy?" She turns and makes her way to the door, bouncing the little girl on her hip, and as they begin to walk away from the wall mirror Regina watches them from. Her eyes lock onto a pair of sky blue sparkling ones, chubby pink cheeks, dimples and a perfect rosy pout. For a second the little girl almost seems to sense her, and Regina can't help but wave her fingers slowly as mother and daughter walk into the distance, and just before she loses sight of them, five little fingers wave back.

She laughs, brushes the tears off of her cheeks and sets the mirror down, her heart blooming and bursting at its seams. Her eyes close as she nestles back into bed, her mind swirling with the image of the perfect little family she had a part in bringing together, and something settles in her, a sense of calm and understanding that this will be the last time she uses the mirror, they have found a happily ever after, after all.

Fin.


	39. Curls

 

They have been living together for a few weeks now and Robin couldn't possibly be happier. He gets to wake up to her warmth snuggled into his side, spend the entire day hearing her laugh and hold his hand as they watch their son's play at a park, and fall asleep in her arms. This is most certainly the definition of happily ever after to him. Living together has certainly brought about some interesting quirks between the two of them. She likes having everything in order, a system her day revolves around, much different to the  _on a whim_ lifestyle Robin is used to living. But structure is good, and he is learning that it does make life easier, knowing where everything is. And for all the organization she has taught him, it's equal in return in the freedom he gives her. More and more she will willing to take an afternoon off work and spend the day curled up in bed with him just because they want to.

And just when he thinks he knows nearly everything there is to learn about his love, she walks out of the shower, a fluffy red towel wrapped around her delectable curves, ones that usually have his eyes drifting over them hungrily, but it's her hair that has him jaw dropped and wide eyed. She doesn't even seem to notice why he is staring at her, simply sits at her vanity table and begins to soak her skin in luxurious white cream without a second thought. He stands, shaky on legs as he makes his way over to her, heart thumping erratically in his chest as his feet close the small distance and still Regina doesn't seem to pay his shock much attention. At least not until his fingers dance softly along her bare shoulders and up into her hair. She freezes, her usual swirl of magic into her hair post shower apparently forgotten, and she knows why he is behind her now.

She hates it. The untamed, unruly, natural curl of her hair. A gift from her mother who had always tugged a heavy painful brush through the wild knots as a child, slickening it up with oils and sewing it back into a braid. It made her look messy her mother used to say. Unkempt and very unlady like. Ironic given that Cora allowed her own curls somewhat twirl into her strict bun. It had become part of Regina's routine, shower and then use her magic to straighten out the coils. How she had forgotten to do that is beyond her and her heart still in her chest as she feels his fingers swirl a spiral around his digits, scrunching it slightly before letting it bounce loosely back about her face.

It's even worse now that she's let her hair grow out. The wild twisting waves that do anything but listen to her will for them to tame back down. Her eyes dart up to his in the mirror, finding them glued to her head, and she waits for him to laugh. Waits for the jesting and jibes he will surely send her way as his hands wind through her curls, from the roots at her scalp that wind voluminously up, down to the very tips that sporadically splay apart.

Her palm swirls with lavender magic as she lifts it to her face, ready to mask the natural state of her hair, but his hand wraps gently around her wrist, "Don't you dare." His low timbered voice husks out, a tone that usually is only for his aroused state. Surely this can't be a turn on for him, having her hair look this way. His fingers scratch at the base of her neck as he bends over to place a gently wet kiss to the pulse point behind her ear, burying himself into her wild mane and inhaling heavily. Slowly he turns her around, squatting down on his knees in front of her, eyes flushed dark when his fingers slide open her tied towel, revealing her naked body for his perusal.

His gaze wanders up her chest, a smile tugging deliciously at his lips he licks when his hands bring her curls around her shoulders to rest on her breasts. The ends curl around her nipples, hug the soft swells and tickle her skin. He runs his thumbs over her nipples, cupping her breasts with a squeeze that has her thighs slickening, but his eyes remain still on her hair, on the tendrils that twirl about her shoulders.

"I beg you to wear it like this more often." He growls out desperately, nuzzling into so that her curls sweep around his face as he bites down gently on the cords in her neck. "Please." He breathes out hotly, licking a line up her skin to the base of her jaw.

"You like it?" She stammers out stunned and incredibly aroused at the way his hands are roaming her body. He pulls back, carding his palms through her curls, and smiles in that way that has butterflies erupting in Regina's stomach. "You are stunning," He drops a kiss to her lips the same time he tugs lightly at her waves, "...in every way."


	40. Puppy Love Verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a chat prompt of Regina and Robin wrangling puppies in a bath. Not beta'd so excuse the mistakes please - I don't know how many verses this one will have.

* * *

 

"No. Absolutely Not."

"Now Regina, before you say no-."

"I already said it. No means no Robin."

"But look at her face!"

"Yes full of mud! She's already tracked it through the house. Her hair is everywhere!"

"You're being dramatic love."

"I am not! I said no dogs."

Robin pouts, his shoulders sinking as he looks down at the mutt at his feet, one who is staring up at him with big brown button  _please don't leave me_ , eyes. He just needs to convince another pair of brown eyes to agree.

They found her in the forest. Hiding under a bushel of low hanging ferns, cowering away when they had approached. Henry was there first, on his knees calling softly out to the blonde matted canine who only backed away from his hand further. Robin and Roland had caught up by then, Robin searching his pockets for something to coax out the scared dog. It took a long time, all three of them on their knees, slowly being able to touch a paw, then a tail, a scratch behind her ears, and finally Robin was able to tie a bit of rope around her neck gently and bring her the rest of the way out.

The boys had been over the moon at the prospect of having a dog. But Robin had his doubts. He loved animals, had been a dog kind of guy his entire life, but they are expensive, take a lot of time to train and he wasn't exactly sure how Regina would react to the four legged body invading her home. It had been on their slow walk back Robin noticed the small limp and the rather swollen belly of the yellow lab. She would need to see a vet, and he had a suspicion that she was near about to give birth to a gaggle of puppies. Bringing in one dog was already a feat, but having puppies to take care of...well that was another situation he'd deal with when the time came.

"A dog Robin. You didn't think about asking me before you brought her here?"

"I know. I'm sorry love. But the boys-"

"Oh no. You don't get to use them in this."

"They fell in love with her."

"They also loved the frog Roland caught in the backyard last week. They are kids Robin. Man up and learn to say no to them!"

The pup whimpers at the high tone of Regina's irritated voice, cowers and recoils slightly behind Robin who sympathizes wholeheartedly with the animal. It's no easy feat trying to win over the heart of the Mayor.

"Love."

"Don't you  _love_  me."

"Oh be reasonable Regina, it's just a dog!"

"Yes. A dog. A messy, mud slinging, tick and flea infested, slobbering bundle of hair. Forgive me for not falling head over heels with it."

"Her name is Daisy."

"Excuse me?"

Robin takes a heavy breath inward and puffs out his chest as best as he can, standing square in front of the blonde dog at his feet. "Her name is Daisy. Roland named her."

"Great. So I have to be the bad cop who tells our boys they can't keep her and you come out looking like the hero who was on their side. We are their parents Robin. That means we have to look out for what's best for them."

"What do you have against dogs anyway?"

She stills, recoils slightly at his question and he can see the glossy whisp that fades over her eyes when she is trapped in a memory. It's pained. This look that dances across her face for a fraction of a second before she shakes her head and huffs out a sharp  _nothing._  But clearly it's not nothing. Her reaction is far to blunt for it to be a simply, "I don't like them."

"You had a dog once didn't you?"

"I never said that." She frowns at him, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. "You didn't have to. I can see it in your eyes. What happened to it?"

"What do you think?"

He sighs, runs a hand over his face and steps towards her, even if she slightly backs away, holding a palm up to stop him. He doesn't. He never really does anymore. "Tell me."

"No."

"Regina."

"Don't chastise me. I don't want to talk about it."

"Was it a girl or a boy?" He grips her palm into his own, forcing her to face him as he looks softly at her. For a second she doesn't say anything, just huffs and gruffs and it makes her look all that more adorable when her nose scrunches up in  _that_  way. It's hard for him to believe sometimes she instilled fear into people with her cute features. Still he just waits, brushes back a lock of her hair as she scowls up at him.

"It was a girl." She relents finally.

"Ah. A little lady love. Did she have a name?"

"Pepper."

He smiles, finally getting somewhere as he see's her shoulders loosen at his roaming touch. "She sounds adorable."

"She was. Brown fur, with white paws and a patch of white over one eye."

"What happened to her?"

The weight of her exhale hits him hard, he knows the fate of most animals. You get to love them for a few sacred years before their time is up. But what he hadn't expected was her painful whisper of "My mother happened." Surely Cora couldn't have been so cruel as to take away her daughters friend. But then again, this is Cora, and while he never met the woman, the stories are more than enough.

"Oh love. I'm sorry." He curls her into a hug, combing through her hair she's let grow past her shoulders, the little curls that wave through it another new attraction he's found in her. He hears her sniffle into his shoulder, let's her allow a few tears to stain his henley. She sighs and pulls back, wiping away her tears with a shy embarrassed smile as his thumb swipes over her cheeks.

"I just don't want them to have to go through losing a pet. It's awful."

"I understand that. And you are a wonderful mother for wanting to protect them. But I too had a dog, Gus, a big grey scraggly looking thing, and he was the absolute joy of my life."

"I know Robin, but you get so attached to them and they don't live as long as we do."

"Did Pepper bring you happiness?"

"Of course she did."

"Aren't those times worth it?"

"Robin." She exhales exasperated, looking around his shoulder at the dog that is sitting scared in her foyer, staring at her terrified.

"It will be fine. I promise you."

Her gaze flicks to his, sinking into the blue of his eyes, the safety they hold. Maybe a dog wouldn't be so bad? She loves them, in all honesty. Has always had a soft spot for the four legged creatures and the way they just seem to sense all emotions around them. "The boys have to take care of her."

"They will."

"I mean it Robin. I am not dumb. I know the novelty wears off the second they have to pick up the first poop. I won't cave."

"I know. And I promise that I will whip them into tip top dog caring shape. You lovely hands won't have to go anywhere near the unpleasant things."

Huffing out a breath she moves around his shoulders and walks towards the blonde lab, her brown big eyes staring warily up at her. She is….cute. Regina has to admit that as she sinks to her knees watching the dog's nose pucker and flare as she leans in slightly to smell Regina's extended fist. Her eyes stay locked on Regina's as she leans into sniff her, bopping her nose against her skin, wetting the spot instantly.

Her tail wags slightly and Regina smiles. "Hello Daisy." The lab wags harder, bumping Regina pam with her snout as she claws slowly on the hardwood floor towards her and into her lap, her tail thumping hard on the floor as she curls into Regina's body.

"She likes you."

"Of course she does."

Robin laughs, and kneels down beside them, running a hand over the lab's head, scratching behind her ears happily. "So we can tell the boys she is staying?"

"I'm not picking up any poop. Or doing any of the 6 am walks."

"Scouts honour, I swear." He kisses her cheek. "We have a dog."

"You owe me."

"I'm certain I can figure out a suitable payment, your Majesty."

Regina grins but doesn't tear her eyes away from the brown eyes that look up at her. She really is cute. Daisy Mills-Locksley.

.

..

…

..

.

Well, just as Robin suspected Daisy is pregnant, very very pregnant according to the vet. So pregnant in fact that they are expecting puppies in little over a week. And Regina is beyond frantic trying to ready their home. Sure they could have left her at the vet to give birth, but Daisy was Regina's dog now, and Regina wasn't about to let someone else take care of her. She is more than adept at it...even if she has never been around puppies being born.

Lazily Daisy licks her palm on the carpet they are both laying on. Regina's hand running gently over the bumping swell of her pink swollen belly. The vet suspects six of them. Six! Not only does she have one dog, but now they are about to have six puppies. Puppies that will need round the clock care and watch. Sure, Robin and the boys are excited and promising that they will help, but it's going to be more than that. It's going to be tedious and time consuming.

For all that it's worth though, the boys have been amazing. She hasn't had to pick up a single log nor has her beauty sleep been interrupted by Daisy's morning need to pee. She's a good dog. Truly. Doesn't bark at much, love's affection, is happy to sit quietly at their feet by the sofa, and is very very fond of Regina. Almost to an irritating point for the rest of her family. If Regina's heels click on the hardwood, Daisy is on her heels trotting at her side happily. She even sleeps on the floor beside Regina. Curled up into the soft purple velvet cushion they had purchased for her, refusing to go anywhere else.

"Robin! Do we have the puppy pads?"

He comes walking into the room, smiling at the fact Regina, the Mayor and once reigning Queen is laying on the floor with a dog, "Yes love. We are all set for their arrival."

"And the extra towels?"

"All ready to go."

She nods and goes back to scratching Daisy's belly, wondering what the puppies are going to look like. If they will all be blonde like their mother, or perhaps an array of colors. "Roland has cleaned up the backyard right?"

Robin chuckles as he sits down beside them, patting Daisy's snout affectionately. "You should have seen his face. All scrunched up and  _ewwwing_  every single time. It's rather adorable honestly."

"Are we ready for this?" She frowns but continues to gently pattern through golden brown fur.

"For what?"

"To have puppies?"

For all the things in her past, Robin can't help but laugh, really laugh at her anxiety over their situation. She is utterly precious when she is nervous like this. Something that makes his heart flutter in his chest at her anxiety.

"It's not funny Robin."

"Regina," He kisses her cheek, "We have raised two boys and a daughter together. Surely a bunch of puppies can't be any more difficult."

"But what if they are sick, or underweight. What if they need extra attention? What if-"

He shushes her with a gentle press of his lips to hers. "It's going to be fine. You're a wonderful mother. The puppies will be nothing but fat, healthy, yipping little fuzzballs."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Daisy nudges Regina's palm, and wags her tail cheerfully. It's like she's trying to tell Regina the same thing. It's going to be fine.

.

..

…

..

.

She is a mess. A bloody frantic nervous anxious wreck as she tries to soothe her little baby's whimpers. It started early this morning, just before 3 am they heard the first pained whine, and Regina's been frazzled every since. They have everything, the hot towels, the dry ones, the pads and antiseptic gloves and wipes, yet it still doesn't feel like enough. What if something goes wrong? Her heart aches at the mewling coming from Daisy, the way her spine arches back and the rather unpleasant liquid seeps out onto Regina's floor. Doesn't matter though. The staining on her floor the last thing on Regina's mind, not when her little baby is in such pain.

Fortunately, for the past week, Robin has been "Doctor Puppy". The amount of hours he's searched and spent on their computer, his Ipad (he's finally learned to use) and every other book, has been above and beyond. He knows about as much as he can without going to school for it. The calm he has, is the ying to Regina's frantic yang right now. Where she panics that they aren't ready, he is there to assure her they have everything and more than.

Not once in her entire life did she ever think she would be sitting on her bathroom floor, with her soulmate, and a dog, birthing puppies. But here she is, cradling a blonde labs head, hushing and soothing her the best she can, whilst Robin does whatever he is doing at the other end. Daisy keens and whines, "I see one.", and it's all suddenly happening. She is sweating, Robin is smiling, and within the blink of an eye, there are five little puppies snuggled into their mother, a blanket warming them from the bottom, and a half asleep Daisy in Regina's lap.

Robin slings off his gloves, runs a palm over his damp forehead and is beaming brighter than the sun as he looks down at the bundle of fur babies. "They are perfect." Regina grins through her tears, looking down at two blonde pups, a brown and a black one, all so damn small they could fit into her palms.

In her lap daisy whines again, her back legs arching stiffly. "Appears we have one more." Robin grins and moves back down to his position, gloves being snapped back onto his wrists. Regina does her best to keep Daisy calm, but childbirth in any form can't be pleasant. "It's okay baby girl, almost done, almost there." She breathes out the mantra quietly as Robin spends an inordinate amount of time trying to coax the last little pup out. "What's wrong?" She frowns at Robin's equal expression as he sits back on his heels with a blanket wrapped around a tiny form. "It's not moving."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know."

"Oh God." She shifts Daisy in her lap, moves on her knees towards Robin, and peers down at the still bundle of soft blue blanket. "Is it…"

"I'm not sure. Here, you try."

The blanket is passed between them before Regina can calm her wild nerves. It's so light. So tender and small in her hands as she turns the flap open and looks down at a jet black pup unmoving.

"Hello little one." She coos softly, running her fingers over the bridge of his tiny button nose, up across the closed eyes and to the small tiny ears. "Be strong baby, come on. I know you can do it." They wait, Regina still running her hands over the puppy's face as Robin cups it's small behind in the blanket. Daisy beside them whines and tips her head up, and Regina moves the little pup to her nose, letting mother sniff and smell her last tiny baby. "Regina look."

The bare fraction of a itty-bitty paw stretches out of the blanket, a tiny whimper following as the pup finally yawns and begins to squirm. Well damn the tears being held back, she just cries at the perfect small sound. Robin leans his forehead into Regina's temple as they set the last part of their expanded family down into Daisy's belly, between the other five pups who have fallen asleep.

"Six puppies." He chuckles, kissing her hair as his eyes lock onto her smile. "We are going to need more puppy pads."

She laughs.

.

..

…

..

.

**Ten weeks later.**

"Robin! Roland! Henry! Anybody!"

God, of course they would all decide to not be within ear shot during bath time. A bath time that is completely their fault. They were the ones who decided that a pack walk in the muddiest part of the forest was a good idea. And damn them all, she was the one left corralling six hyper puppies into a soapy water filled tub that they immediately decided was both play time and jail.

Her shit is soaked, there is water everywhere on the tub, and her hair...well that is another curly mess of a matter completely. It's like herding cats. Worse than. They are barking and howling and nipping at every chance they can. Splashing, squirming little buggers. "ROBIN! No, Opal! Stay!" The brown pup makes a run for it, slipping on the wet tile as Regina lunges for it's soggy wet body. Apparently it's a jailbreak and Regina is the unaware warden. They thunder over her, paws, tails and dripping wet snouts that clamber over top of her and head for the door.

"Regina!"

_Well fucking finally!_

He stills at the doorframe, the pups jumping up at his legs, and she expects him to do something...help her...but he just freezes for a second and then bursts out into a heavy laugh.

"It's not funny! Help me!"

He buckles on the door, reaching out the stabilize himself on the vanity as he sucks in a breath desperate to quell the ridiculous amount of giggling at what he's just walked into. "Robin!" She barks out, grabbing onto Hickory and Lily, wrangling them back into the tub, her blouse a long lost cause. Fortunately he has the good sense to grab the Opal and Thunder and deposit them into the bath rather quickly, turning on the bathtub tap as a distraction. It works all five pups clamber to the spout. "Why can't they all be like Miles? He listens." Miles as it turns out is that last pup they had received, the one who for a minute in time either of them were sure would ever open his bright blue eyes. He is perfect to Regina. Calm and well mannered. He is her little baby. They are never far apart, the two of them. She loves all the puppies but Robin can see the bond that these two have. Has walked in many times on them snoozing together on the couch (where puppies aren't normally allowed), Miles' tiny head tucked into Regina's chest, her hand over his small silky body, both heavily breathing the minutes away.

"They need to get dried before everyone gets here. I am not adopting out messy little brats."

"Uh Regina…"

"What?"

"Rusty is tearing up the bathmat."

"What!" She turns on a dime, finding one small brown pup ripping apart (kind of) her creme bath rug. "You little beast." Her hands swallow him up, tugging the material out of his razor sharp teeth and placing him back into the tub. He is most definitely the "wild one" of the bunch. Robin likes him.

A doorbell rings and well it's time. She looks down at the six pairs of little colored eyes all staring up at her, sitting like perfect children with tails all a waggling. Her heart clenches. They aren't keeping them. They can't. Seven dogs and three actual human kids is far too many. Daisy is staying, but these six fur babies are going to new homes. And the thought has tears flooding Regina's eyes.

"What's wrong?" Robin's hand slides up her back. She shakes her head, whispering out a sad "Nothing." But he knows her better, knows this look at that tone better. "Come on, tell me what it is that has you looking so heartbroken. I thought you didn't want to keep them."

"I….God." She wipes away her tears, "It's just, look at them Robin." She smiles down at her gaggle of pups, "They are our babies."

"We don't have to adopt them out you know."

"Seven dogs is far too many. I am still trying to figure out how you got me to agree to one."

"Still. The house in the woods is almost done, we will have more than enough space for all of them."

She sighs, combs through the fur of all their fuzzy wet faces, "Would it be horrid of me to say no to adopting them out?"

"Regina Mills, look at me." He turns her face to find his, smiling at the hope in her eyes. "You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. If you want to keep all six of them, then that's exactly what we are going to do."

"You sure you're okay with that? It's a lot Robin."

He hushes her insecurity with a happy kiss, and the pups in the bath mewl and clamber at the lip of the tub. It makes her laugh into his mouth, tearing their lips apart as she looks back down at the six tiny wagging tails.

"Roland's going to have a ton of poop to clean."

Fin.


	41. Puppy Love - Sick

 

She's a snotty, sneezing, coughing, wheezy mess. Her head pounds like a hammer in her skull, lungs burn from a lack of oxygen thanks to a lovely build up of mucous. Even her eyes feel like sandpaper. "Sick" doesn't even begin to cover what she is feeling right now. "Like Death" is a much more applicable term. Three days she's been like this, two tissue boxes, four throat lozenge packets and a bottles of buckleys later and still she is curled up in a ball under her covers, sweating and freezing all at once.

"How are you feeling love?" His voice is soft and tender as the mattress dips down behind her, his palm burning her already hot forehead. She groans instead of responds, her throat too swollen for words. "I have soup from Granny's for you. Feel up to eating?" She shakes her head underneath the mountain of covers, and even the small movement makes her head swim and vision blur. Perhaps a sleeping curse is the answer. Technically Robin could wake her up once this virus decides to screw off. "I brought you someone."

Her one visible eye cracks open the second a wet tongue smacks up against her cheek, a happy wagging tail and tiny blue eyes coming into her blurry vision. "He's been missing you." Robin smiles as he sets the small black pup down against Regina, feeling at least a little bit more helpful as he see's her lips curl up lazily. "Hi my boy." She croaks out, stroking the soft fur and pink underbelly. Robin combs her messy tangled hair back gently with his fingers and does his best to tie it out of her face. Regina purrs at the feeling, and cuddles closer into the already sleeping puppy tucked into her arms, breathing wet and heavy against her neck.

"Get some rest, I'll come check on you in a bit." Robin leans down to press a quick kiss to her temple, frowning at the heat radiating off of her, surely she is sweltering with all these blankets. From inside her cocoon, he see's her nod, and curl Miles up into her chest. Perhaps a bit of puppy love will help heal her. He stands quietly, and walks to the bedroom door, swinging it silently open and is greeted by five tiny fuzzy faces and wiggling bums all staring up at him.

Lily barks, and all five of them run past his feet towards the bed and more importantly towards Regina. She moans in her sleep and shuffles over to see five fur balls standing up on back paws, leaning on her blanket fortress, lolling pink tongues and bright curious pairs of eyes all silently begging to a place in bed. They aren't allowed in bed. It's been a rule since the very beginning. But apparently her sickness has overridden her usual strictness. "Lift them up, I can't."

Chuckling at the sleepy mumble, Robin does just as she asked, two by two he lifts up the six puppies who all immediately take up residence as close to her as possible, leaving gentle affectionate licks to her skin before curling up into soft pillowed balls all around her. She sighs in her half sleepy daze, "Where's Daisy?"

Robin smiles "At your feet." squeezing Regina's ankle under the covers beside the large yellow lab whose tail thumps happily. With one last look at the bed, he can't help the swell in his heart at the sight, she really does have the biggest heart for puppy love.

Even if she refuses to admit it.

Fin. (Feel free to prompt more for this verse :D )


	42. Puppy Love - Thieves

 

"Robin Locksley!"

HIs eyebrow arches from the sofa at the shrill holler of her voice. She sounds rather displeased. A little whine in his lap rustles the newspaper he still holds. "What do you suppose happened Hickory?" He scratches the brunette pup behind his ear, chuckling at the way a back leg suddenly stiffens as charcoal eyes close. "Oh is that the spot my boy?" He gives in for a few more seconds before "Robin!"

"Best go see what all the fuss is about." He bops the pup on the wet nose and sets him down on wobbly chubby legs, patting his behind as the tyke trots off into the kitchen where at least a few other equally furry family members are. Skipping quickly up the stairs, he notices the gate is open...the gate is supposed to keep shut so the puppies can't get upstairs...perhaps Regina left it open... unlikely. Chewing on his lower lip he sends a scowl at the white plastic contraption. It's not his fault the locks are impossible to use. They all laugh at his struggle work them, something Robin huff's at. Regina calls them, "child locks", but they are boggling to him. Why they even have to use them is beyond him. Useless waste of plastic.

He pushes open the bedroom door, curious as to what could have Regina screaming his name in a rather aggravated tone this early on a sunday afternoon. "What's wrong love?" He calls out cautiously, stepping into their room and Regina is nowhere in sight, and for a moment he wonders if he imagined the whole thing. Raising six puppies and three children hasn't exactly been doing wonders for his sleep.

"Ahem."

Oh. She's in her closet...this could either be very, very good for him, given that where he knows she keeps all her lacy silky things, or this could be very, very bad  _because_  it's where she keeps all those lacy silky things. It's suddenly quite hot in here. Uncomfortably so. But it's raining outside...so it's not stifling from the weather.

"Robin." He talks a slow step towards her voice, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of what he is walking into before it's too late. Her hands are on her hips, hair a bit ruffled, and a furious look on her face. She steams as he walks into their closet, arching a dark eyebrow impossibly high. "Hello love." He swallows, smiling as best as he can, but he feels like a deer caught by a wolf. The look in her eye is enough to tell him this probably doesn't end well for the prey.

"Did you lock the baby gate at the stairs?" She bites out, tapping her heel on the tiled floor.  _Oh Shit, he's in big trouble._  "Uhh...yes?" He lies through his teeth, stuffing his hands in his pockets. She smiles, a dark sinister thing that has the hairs on Robin's neck flare. "Is that so? Well then it appears we have magical puppies." She stalks slowly towards him, did he mention it's bloody hot in here, his sweat pools anxiously in his palms as she closes the distance. She is dangerously close to him, eyeing him up with a scowl. "Walk." He gulps and follows her command, moving through their large closet and  _Oh shit...oh shit shit shit._

A mountain of her clothes move on the floor, two matching blonde tails wiggling out from the cracks of silk and cotton. He needs to teach them to hide a lot better if they are going to get into mischief like this, their tiny yips and happy squeaks muffled are a dead give away. "Care to answer my question again." She smokes hotly beside him, her eyes glaring up at him before flicking irritated down at the shuffling pile. "They are impossible to use in my defense."

He kneels down at the crumpled attire, slowly removing two or three of Regina's blouses, unveiling two small fuzzy yellow faces with blue eyes dancing up at him. They bark at his sudden appearance and dive back down into their hideaway. He chuckles at their attempt to escape, letting them burying beneath Regina's clothes for a half minute more before he hears her huff out behind him.

Playtime is over it appears.

Picking both little girls up, they squeak and yipe, wriggling in his grasp as they desperately cling to socks and hems of shirts, tugging out the threads between sharp razor teeth. He groans, a few of her blouses may be beyond saving. "Seriously Robin, it's not funny."

"It's just a couple shirts my love." He laughs at the pink tongue that smack into his cheeks as he stands and turns to face a irritated Regina. "And two days ago it was just a pair of shoes. Last week it was just my purse. It's exhausting Robin. We don't live in a barn. You have to train them."

"They are puppies Regina, they see something and want to play with it."

"That's why we bought them toys."

Technically she is right. And he does feel kinda bad that they all apparently have an affinity to chew on her things rather than anyone else's. He sighs and jostles the pups so he is holding around their pink swollen bellys, paws dangling in their new position.

"Girls, say you're sorry." He jiggles them sternly. "Come on now. Both of you." He frowns down as best be can at the adorable fluffy balls, but they are so bloody cute and fat and he just can't help the small grin that plays on his lips. Closing the distance between him and Regina, he holds both Lily and Opal up in front of his face, right into Regina's, letting his voice go ridiculously high as he squeaks out behind them "We are sorry Regina." Their tails wiggle, and Regina huffs out a small laugh. "You're ridiculous."

He peaks out over their heads, eyes sparkling though he tries to put on his best  _I'm ashamed_  look. "You're not that cute Robin." She rolls her eyes, scratching softly at the puppies chubby chins. "Are we forgiven?" He bops Lily's face into Regina's. She's a sucker for their affection. Under all the strictness and aggravation they may cause her sometimes, she is an absolute puddle for their little pink tongues and tiny paws. It does the trick. Her hands curl around Lily and remove her from Robin's grasp as the pup snuggles immediately into her chest.

It makes his heart swell at the sight of her smiling that smile. The one that he swears could rival the sun as she nuzzles into the wet nose. "The two of you are mischievous little brats aren't you?" She coos softly, playing with a floppy paw. "Cute brats." Robin adds, passing her Opal as well who goes without a fight. Regina arches her eyebrow at Robin and turns out of the closet, pups in tow, "You're picking that all up."

"Yes love." He chuckles as she leaves. With a sigh he goes to pick up the tattered mess of clothes on the floor. Hanging them all back up according to color shade as per Regina's preference. He's nearly done, everything folded neatly and tucked back into place when a small growl grabs his attention. Turning he spies a brown tail burrowed into the back corner, bum high in the air, flailing about. "Rusty."

The brown pup spins on the spot, wide brown eyes caught, and one of Regina's rather favorite red bra's clenched in a slobbering tight toothy grip. "Oh boy. You are lucky she didn't find you young man." He reaches for the pup who yipes and tries a quick running escape, bra in tow. And they are so damn squirrely and fast that Robin's attempt at capture misses. He cringes watching the brown furry thieving bottom scramble from the closet holding his treasure as he flees.

Oh he is going to be in shit. The actual dog house. Perhaps he still has a chance to… "Oh My God! Robin!"

Dammit. Well he never expected this to be a walk in the park.


	43. Puppy Love - Beach Day

If she thought being a single mother to one child was hard...this tops everything. Trying to wrangle them all together in the same spot is an absolute nightmare, figuring out whose collar is whose, and why they don't have the right number of leashes, it's going to make her mind explode. They had seven leashes, well nine technically, but apparently hard woven objects are just too good to pass up on ripping apart. It's like herding cats, but noisier, clumsier and well in her mind a lot cuter even with the headache of three running away, and one heading out the door already. Honestly, why can't they just all be as well behaved as Miles, Hickory and their mother Daisy? Why must Rusty insist on chewing Lily's ear off when she is trying to get his collar to fit properly. And where the hell did Thunder go?

She's resorted to using her body on the ground as a shield for their escape attempts, tying those ready for the afternoon's adventure to the coat rack and having Daisy lay at her feet as another barrier. And bloody hell, why is she the only one getting them all ready. This wasn't her idea. Robin wanted to go to the lake so they could see the progress on their new home. Had beamed brighter than the sun when she initially agreed wholeheartedly until he sprung it on her that it would make a nice family outing...the  _entire_  family. They can barely make it down the block with three puppies, but to take all six. He's out of his tree infested head.

Giving Miles, whose sits beautifully in her lap, a loving scratch to the bottom of his black silky muzzle, she sighs and runs her other hand through her hair, banging her nose with the metal clip of the leash, because of course it would happen right now. "Can you tell all your pesky siblings to stay here for one second Miles." He wags his tiny tail against her thigh, bright blue eyes sparkling up curiously at her. If only they could speak actual english words, this would be a hell of a lot easier.

"Lily, let go of your mother's leash." She reaches over, gripping the purple chain and prying it from the blonde relentless puppies mouthy grip who seems to think it's a wonderful game of tug a war. Her little blonde bum goes straight into the air, wiggling frantically as she pulls back with all her itty bitty might. It makes Regina chuckle before scooping up the four pawed baby and tickling her tummy affectionately as she clips on her pink lead. They all match actually. Every collar has a hue toned leash twin. It makes it that much easier to figure out whose has gone missing, and right now she is most certainly missing Hickory's green one and Opal's yellow.

It's probably Rusty. He is on more than one occasion been the culprit and instigator in many a thing gone missing or wrecked.

"Looks like this little monster got free." Robin comes around the corner with the brunette pup in tow, and there it is, dangling from his razor sharp tiny teeth, a green leash that is most certainly not the red he wears. Settling the hyper puppy down Robin presses a kiss to the top of Regina's head. "Almost ready to go love?"

She smiles and shakes her head a resounding no, because Thunder is still missing, and only three out of the six puppies have a leash attached by now. This is going to take forever. But how Robin manages to do it before her eyes, corral all six into a corner, Thunder coming in Roland's arm a few moments later, is beyond Regina. They sit for him, anxious anticipating whines and baby barks as he clips each remaining lead to collar. She scowls playfully at her gaggle of fur babies, a indignant "Oh sure, you listen to him.", mumbling out as she finally stands from the floor and dusts off her pants. "Where's Henry?"

"Already waiting in the truck."

Surely he knew he should have been inside helping his mother, but teenage mood swings be damned, and her son was a Mill's through and through when the surly grip of irritation climbed aboard them. Perhaps a day in the sunshine and water will do them all some good. Roland is out of the house first, Thunder and Opal chasing after him as Robin snags Rusty, Lily and Hickory into his hands and follows his boy outside, leaving just Regina, Daisy and her perfect boy Miles sitting and waiting ever patiently for her.

"Come on you two." She grabs their leashes and locks the door behind them. Now, a dog was already a stretch for her, now it's six puppies in tow, and probably the most stark change in her world wasn't any of the fuzzballs that ate everything on sight, but the aggressively massive black truck that currently sat in her driveway. Robins' idea much to her eye roll, but she can't help but admit that he does look rather sexy driving the 4x4, makes her stomach flutter in naughty thoughts when he dawns his sunglasses and lets a hand slink out the open window.

The drive isn't far, twenty ish minutes or so from the mansion, and she loves every bit of it. Mainly because she can sit in the front seat, sneak glances at her handsome husband, stroke through Miles' soft fur in her lap and watch out the side mirror at the five pair of ears flapping in the wind in the back seat. For all the headache they cause her, seeing their chubby fur faces nosing at the wind, paws clinging to the window sill and tails whipping back and forth is absolutely darling. And fine, the truck does have it's need, her mercedes wouldn't stand a chance with seven dogs, not that she'd let their muddy paws get anywhere near the pristine leather.

With a left turn, the tree's begin to clear against the road and her heart glows at the sight of their almost ready house sitting in the distance. It's big, they need the room for their ever growing family, (something she has to remind herself to talk to Robin about soon), perched on the grassy meadow beside the blue lake. It's a piece of sanctuary he'd apparently found a year ago, had already begun fixing up before he'd brought her here with a shy smile and a key pressed into her palm. He built them a house. She loved him for it more than words could express. And every day that goes by is another she ticks off the calendar beside her bed, counting down the days till they can move in.

Rolling the vehicle to a stop, their back seat goes into a flurry of activity. Stopping means adventure time. They all know it even at five months. Clambering on top of one another, Roland laughs in the back seat, hoisting up puppy after puppy up and out of the car, Henry doing much the same on his side until the truck is empty and five puppies are at a stampede through the grass towards the lake.

"I forgot to bring towels to dry them off." Robin sighs embarrassed beside her as they see the water begin to splash alongside their boys. It just makes Regina smile as she pats his chest and presses a kiss to his stubbly cheek, "So we let them sun dry. I'd like to spend extra some time here anyway." It's far too easy to bring him out of a guilty funk, especially when he is a complete sucker for her smile and the way she laces their hands together and leads him down towards the beach.

They settle a blanket down in the sun by the edge of the sand, Robin tugging off his shirt as he runs to go play with their kids, a child a heart himself as he tosses Roland up into the air. Regina leans back on her elbows, running a hand over Daisy who is happy to just sit beside her, mother and mother watching their children play. She's a soft soul, Daisy, and Regina is honestly though she hasn't mentioned it out loud yet, is grateful to have her. Especially in these new few weeks of Regina's life. The yellow mommy seems to notice something is different about her. Follows her around more insistently, bumps her wet nose to Regina's tummy with gentle sniffs and a soft wiggle of her tail. A secret kept between them for now at least.

Together, with Regina's hand smoothing along Daisy's back, they watch as the boys try and coherce a few of the puppies to come swim. It makes Regina laugh, watching their fuzzy butts high in the air as the sniff the bubbling waters. A few brave enough to put front paws in, a few still tentative when it laps at their feet. Roland throws a few sticks, and much to his dismay, Robin is the only one to fetches them for him. They just need a mother's touch it appears. Standing up, Daisy stretches and they both make their way to the water's edge. Miles it at her side in an instant, licking her calf with a sandy dirty nose nudge.

The water is cool on her feet, blissfully so compared to the heat of the sun. Robin is waist deep in it by now, chilled droplets painting his bronzing skin. In the sun his hair looks so much blonder, it makes her wonder about things to come.

A muzzle bumps her ankle, Opal's blue eyes staring up curiously between her and the water. Appears Regina's found her brave soldier. Scooping up the blonde babe she cuddles her tight before stepping deeper into the water. Opal squeals but sniffs the glass top, her paws bouncing back and forth as Regina slowly lowers her in, holding around her belly as the pup starts swimming in her hands.

It's all over after that, Robin and the boys scooping pups up one by one and letting them paddle about till they feel comfortable enough to venture out on their own. Hickory is most certainly a water dog, now that it's not quite so scary, and is more than happy to go tramping back into the water time and again as Roland tosses out a never ending supply of sticks. It's a perfect day to her. Surrounded by her family, all happy and laughing at the sandy holes being dug side by side, the small crab running for it's life away from three curious noses that follow its trail. Hours go by, and Regina is back on the blanket on the beach, Miles, Lily and Thunder all sleeping soundly beside her, wetter than the lake in front of them, sand filled fur and happy as can be.

Robin settles down beside her, kissing her cheek before ghosting a hand down to her stomach with a curious arch in his brow. It makes her heart stumble as she looks at him staring down at his thumb that swipes gently over the light red cotton tank. She smiles at the touch, watching as the rest of her babies some crawling up exhausted from the beach and slump down next to them. A dog, six puppies, and three kids, her family is growing faster than she can keep up, and soon enough another tiny addition will be making their unexpected entrance.


	44. Puppy Love - Missing

Someone left the back gate open. It had been at bedtime they'd noticed that there were only five pups tucked away under cozy blankets and not the normal six. Thunder wasn't anywhere to be found, not with Roland in bed, or Henry. They'd scoured every inch of the mansion and Regina had begun to panic. Night had fallen over the town and with his black shiny coat, it was only making it harder to find him. She had Robin had grabbed flashlights and had taken to the streets, calling his name and whistling out for their missing baby.

"Where do you think he could have gone?"

"I haven't a clue, but we should check the forest."

"Robin. The forest is massive, how are we supposed to find him?"

He sighs, runs a hand over his palm, she is right, and it's just two of them. But it has to be good enough, as he grabs her hand and they start walking down the pathway and into the clearing where they've taken the pups before, hoping that Thunder will have followed a familiar trail. She is quiet as they walk between the trees that grow thicker and thicker with every turn.

"Hey." He stops them seeing the tears beginning to form in her eyes, "We are going to find him. I promise." She nods, sniffs heavy and shines her flashlight into the never ending darkness. Somewhere in the distance a howl echoes through the trees, and not a puppy howl, it stills Regina's heart as they run towards the noise. Cutting through the brush and branches, Robin is the first to catch sight of a large hairy coyote, arched and growling at a bush, one that shakes with a tiny bark.

"Thunder!"

Regina steps, but Robin grabs her hand, "Look." She turns to the right, seeing a pack closing in. In their haste Robin hadn't grabbed his bow, and her magic had been finicky as of late, what with the new soft light radiating from her tiny swollen tummy. She could freeze probably two of the coyotes, but eight of them, no. "What do we do?"

Sweat beads on his forehead as the pack crouches closer to the bush hiding their puppy, snarling and pawing at the dirt just feet away. A booming roar above head draws their attention momentarily away, a massive expanse of black wings shadowing out in the moon before the beast lands between the trees.

"Mal!"

The dragon snorts out a hot breath, baring long daggered teeth at the gnashing coyotes that dash towards her. Regina is frozen to the spot, watching the wild dogs attack her dragon, landing sharp claws and bloody teeth into her scales. But the Dragon stays in place, swiping with her tail and talons, snapping at the coyotes that lung and growl at her. "She's protecting him." Robin stands stunned seeing the magnificent beast hunkering down over the bush that hides a surely terrified Thunder beneath. Fire spouts from Maleficent, burning a hot trail towards the dogs who yipe and scamper back into the forest and it goes dead quiet as the Dragon's green eyes follow them into the trees, a spiral of smoke curling from her nostrils as she huffs indignantly at the fleeing tails.

A purple cloud surrounds her, the form of the Dragon giving way to a rather perfectly tailored looking Maleficent, not a single hair out of place as she bends down into the brush. It has both Regina and Robin finally moving once more as she pulls out a curled up black pup from the leaves, cuddling it to her chest as he stares up at her with wild eyes. "Mal!" She turns at the sound of her name, Thunder in her arms wagging his tail happily at the sound of Regina's voice, as he barks and paws in their direction. "Oh God Thunder, are you okay?" Regina scoops the pup out of Mal's hands, stuffing him into a tight squeeze as a wet tongue lands on her cheek.

"Thank you Maleficent." Robin smiles, breathing a much relieved breath out at the blonde he's come to hold as a dear friend. "I wouldn't have let touch a hair on his head." She coos out to the puppy, tickling a pink belly affectionately. Robin wouldn't have taken the Dragon for a dog lover, but the look in her eyes tells a much different story. Thunder's reaction takes him by surprise as well, he is usually a shy pup, hiding behind furry siblings or protective legs. But he whines when Mal removes her hand, wriggles in Regina's grasp till his saviour gets the message. She laughs, and holds him back in her arms once more, chuckling at the flailing of his whipping tail. "He likes you." Regina smiles at the pair, stunned just as much as Robin is at the sight. "He's got good taste then don't you little beasty." Mal nuzzles his nose with her own, kissing his shiny soft forehead.

"How come you didn't use your magic?" Blue eyes quiz over Regina's. They haven't told anyone about the newest addition to their family. Have decided that once Regina is past her first trimester they will share the news. Her hand unconsciously moves to cup her rounded belly, small as it may be, the pulse of magic fluttering within. "Oh, the little one you carry is interfering with it." Robin's eyebrows arch high at the casual nature of Maleficent's tone at the revelation they hadn't even spoken. Appears the Dragon has more than just a shape shifting gift. "She's going to be quite powerful, this little girl." She smiles, thumbing over Regina's swell gently.

"She?"

"I suppose it's too early for you to know. Sorry if I ruined the surprise."

"It's a girl?" Regina breathes out, eyes wide and filling with tears once more. "We are having a girl."

"Congratulations. Six puppies and four children. It suits you Regina."

"What does?"

"Being overrun with love."

Regina smiles, leans into Robin's shoulder who hasn't spoken a single word but his hands are firmly laced into her own over the bump that holds their daughter. "Let's hope she has Robin's temperament." Mal chuckles, nuzzling back into the now sleeping pup in her arms.

"Oh I don't know, I seem to have been able to tame one Mill's woman, what's another going to hurt?" He laughs, pressing a kiss to Regina's cheek who scoffs at his words, but leans into his touch fractionally more. "Careful what you wish for."

Robin just smiles, because it's exactly what he's wished for.


	45. Puppy Love - Guardians

She feels fat. Well maybe not fat. But round and full. Granted she is only four months along but still. Her pants don't fit, everything is morphing from tight pant suits and skirts to leggings and loose dresses, attire that doesn't exactly depict stern madam mayor look she strives for. Regardless, here she is, sitting on her bed once more, groaning as she tries to tug on some tights over her newly widen hips and rounded out bottom. Robin is very appreciative of the changes in her body. Not that he didn't love her curves the way before, he just simply smiles and claims that there is  _more of her to love now._  A notion Regina scoffs at but tenderly rubs her little swollen belly.

They are having a baby girl, if Mal's intuition is right, which it usually is. A daughter. Something Regina never thought would happen to her. Being pregnant. It's beautiful. She can feel the gentle pulse of magic their daughter will carry swirling about like butterflies. This little girl would be about the size of a large orange, with eyelashes and eyebrows, even a sprinkling of hair. It makes Regina wonder what color they will all be. Dark chocolate like her own? Or perhaps light sandy blonde as her father's. It makes the waiting for her arrival that much more exciting.

Robin sings to her every day now. Reading up on the fact that at four months her ears should be developed enough to hear his voice. It's probably one of her favorite parts of the day. Laying back against the sofa, shirt tucked up under her bra, belly exposed and his sing song timbered voice humming out whatever is on his mind. She adores it.

Robin's touching her of her stomach though is off limits. At least when the puppies are around. Miles and Opal in particular. They are nosy at the changes in Regina's body, sniffing and wiggling at the bump that protrudes from her tummy. Dogs have an innate sense for things like this she's begun to discover. And with them being a year now, their attitudes have only grown. Their wary eyes watch as Robin's hand slowly creeps towards Regina's stomach, barely able to lay a finger on the swell before their noses are bumping him away indignant that he'd even try. It makes her laugh, her protective little babies, though Robin doesn't quite find the display as endearing as she does.

Most days she has two if not three pups curled around her waist, noses wet and sticky as they nuzzle against her shirt. Four children and seven dogs. When did she let her demanding "absolutely not" get completely spun around on her.

Stroking through Opal's blonde hair she sighs, breathing in a much needed exhausted breath. It's been a day. A week really. Of non stop complaints about the new fire house being built. Apparently everyone wants to be a firefighter and there are only a certain amount of spaces available and each rejected application only brings her a headache.

Opal's tail wags as she stretches alongside Regina, tucking in tighter to her baby bump as she relaxes back into the blanket strewn about them. The mansion is graciously quiet, what with Robin and the kids having taken four of the dogs out for a much needed walk. Though it's been over an hour and they should be back anytime now for dinner. A dinner she hasn't yet started. Maybe an order in from Granny's will suffice their appetites. Granted, they've had take out more often than an actual home cooked meal this week and Regina's stomach growls for something a little less greasy right now.

Thunder trots into the living room, giving Regina's belly it's honorary sniff before his slobbery ball falls into her lap. She grimaces at the slimy thing, rolls it off her so it bounces on the floor and he stampedes after it joyfully. It's endearing that they still have their puppy qualities. Everything is enchanting to them still. Energy never expended. The ball plops back onto her thighs and his tail thumps against the ground.

"Thunder, it's not playtime. Not right now okay handsome boy?" She scratches under his chin, hoping to abate the wistful look in the blue eyes that stare up anxiously for another round at her. Sighing, she rolls the ball down the hall, chuckling at the skidding and scrambling pounce that echoes along the walls before her black fur baby comes bounding back into view, ball in tow. At least they are easily trainable. Well all of them except Rusty. He is giving Regina's patience a run for her money what with his affinity for getting into things he definitely isn't allowed to be chewing on.

She ends up tossing the ball for a few minutes, alternating between smoothing over Opals' muzzle and Miles' ears. Both more than happy to lay quietly by her side whilst their brother tromps around with a wiggling tail over and over again. It's not like she plays favorites with the dogs. They all have cute unique qualities that win parts of her hearts over. But these two, well, they are just extra special.

The door swings open and quiet time is clearly over as sixteen paws come stampeding into the living room, her boys, Robin's daughter she feels is her own, and the man himself all scrambling after the jail breakers.

"Hey mom!" Henry waves, wrangling Rusty's leash off of the brunette bull, clearly the hour walk has done nothing to stifle his energy. Figures. He is always the most hyper of the bunch. "How was your afternoon?"

She smiles, leans into the kiss he places gently on her cheek, answering a happy  _fine_  as he leaves to go attend to the other pups still wandering around with leashes on. Roland and Evelyn are next, patting the dogs that curl around Regina with matching smiles, as they too give Regina some affectionate pecks. It makes her heart burst. She has a family. A huge one at that. One that is only growing and she honest to God has never felt more content in her life. Well that is until Robin saddles up beside her, decided her cheek isn't good enough for him as he presses his lips to her own, swallowing the surprised moan that tickles the back of the throat. HIs hand unconsciously finding the small swell of her stomach, which only has Miles' attention zeroing in. He whimpers, nudges against Robin's palm, squirrelling until it's only his head Robin is touching and no longer Regina's belly.

"Hey now. Technically she is mine in there not yours." He scowls playfully down at the pup, bopping the wet nose that impedes him from Regina and his daughter. "And how are my girls? Happy? Healthy? Well rested I hope?"

Regina smiles and pats his stubbly cheek. His protective streak has only expanded now that there is another little one to protect. And she adores him for it. The incessant doting, curious eyes at her well being, even if the consistent questions if she needs anything do grow a bit repetitive, it just makes her feel loved and that is a damn nice feeling.

"Well guarded." She chuckles, eyeing down at the two dogs who are back to resting their heads on her thighs though their eyes keep watch of Robin's hands, just in case. "And hungry." She confesses shyly. "I didn't make dinner yet."

"Allow me my love."

"Hey mom!" Roland shouts from the kitchen, "Can we have pizza tonight?"

Her eyes shift to Robin's who just shrugs and kisses her once more, "Sounds like dinner is taken care of already." She holds his lips to hers, carding through his hair as grins when he lets out a whimper at the way her teeth bite into his lower lip. "Perhaps after everyone is asleep, you can give me a massage?" His eyes darken at her request, tongue peeking out to lick a line of wetness on his pouted lips. "I would love nothing more than to spend some quiet,  _alone_ , time with you."

Regina squirms under his gaze, knows exactly what this husky blue is insinuating by  _alone_  time and she is more than happy to oblige that particular look he gives her. "But the dogs have to sleep downstairs then. I will not be interrupted again." He gruffs, pecking her mouth once more before leaning back into the sofa, scratching Lily's pink fat belly as she saddles up beside her owners on the sofa.

"You corral them. I'll wait upstairs for you."

And she knows it will never really work. They dogs are adamant in their dislike of being kenneled, and she is damn certain that by the time her legs are jelly limbed and her mind all fuzzed out thanks to Robin there will be whimpers and scratching on their bedroom door. And true to every single night since they've been adopted, she will be swaddled in their heat as they climb and garner for a spot in bed, as close to her growing belly as possible before they too sail off into dreamland.


	46. Where the Ocean meets the Sky

She doesn't think much about holidays, not anymore anyway. What's the point in decorating and getting excited when there is no one to share it with? No little boy to come stampeding down the steps screaming about the Easter Bunny leaving chocolates everywhere. There are no wide eyes dazzling at Christmas lights and the thousands of questions about a man called Santa. They used to celebrate every single one. From the biggest at Halloween when she had been forced into wearing a green cape and red body suit just to play to sidekick to his batman, to the smallest ones like Cupcake and Cookies Day in June (which apparently is an actual holiday). She loved it. Making little cards and trinkets to bestow upon her little prince. Receiving messy, barely glued together macaroni picture frames and a coffee cup that leaked from its handle. She kept every single one. But now there is no Henry to make pancakes with in the mornings and decorate her mansion in the afternoons with. The festivity has left her heart.

It's only worse being stuck inside these stone walls with everyone who doesn't seem to share her indifference to celebrating today. A day that only makes her heart ache. The hall has been stuffed to the brim with flowers and hanging ornaments, everyone hugging and smiling, giving small tokens of thanks to the women in their lives who have taken on the most important job of mother. And though she still is one, listening to the happy sentiments and thanks to the many women around only makes her eyes flush with tears, and she will not cry in front of these people who send a smile her way.

So she left, without touching her breakfast and leaving the bouquet of flowers she suspects Snow left on her throne behind. At least out here underneath her apple tree there is no one who can disturb her. She can just sit and think about all the memories of her baby boy who is now unreachable to her. He doesn't remember her. Hasn't the slightest indication that she is sitting here longing to hold him once more. The tears fall onto her cheeks silently. What she would give just to hear him call her "Mom" again. That would be a dream come true.

The sun is warm against her skin, the sky bright blue, and for all intents and purposes it is a really lovely day. But she feels anything but lovely, or loved for that matter. A small sniffle has her ears perking. She thought she was alone, had hoped as much, but apparently her quiet sanctuary has a visitor she hadn't even noticed. He sits on a small log just to her right and down the hill a little bit, head hung low, feet dangling just above the tall blades of grass. Frowning at the hitched breath that puffs out of his little chest, Regina stands and slowly walks up to him.

"Roland?"

He turns, eyes brimming with wet pools, nose red and snotty, and Regina sinks at the quiver of his lower lip. He goes easily into her arms, burrowing in tight as she sits down on the log, rocking him slowly back and forth. "What's wrong, my little knight?" She rubs her hand up and down his back softly. His answer is nothing but a hard sniff into the collar of her dress. Sighing she presses a kiss to his temple, "It's okay, Roland. You can tell me." His breath rattles out as he sits back, looking straight up into her eyes. He's a beautiful little boy. Has been able to worm his way into her heart without her even realizing.

"Is it your papa?"

He scrunches his nose with a shake of messy brown curls.

"Something happen with Little John?"

Again it's a no, and Regina chews on her lower lip, wiping away the remaining tears on his chubby dimpled cheeks. "Then why the crocodile tears?" His eyes drop from hers, fingers toying with the jeweled bracelet on her wrist. "I don't have a mama."

Her heart flips over and she hugs him impossibly tight. "Oh, baby, yes you do."

"But she's not here."

Well, he's not wrong. She knows about Marian from what Robin has told her on their many nights walking side by side underneath the moonlight. They share memories only to one another. He speaks about Roland as a baby, the turmoil and guilt he feels over the loss of his wife, and whether or not his son is growing up how Marian would have wanted. She understands his pain. Quietly confesses her own inner qualms about raising Henry alone. Being a single parent is hard. Playing both the good cop and bad cop, and sometimes not equally. Robin smiles at her, admits he probably lets Roland get away with a little too much, but puppy eyes are his weakness.

Running her fingers through Roland's curls, she tucks her chin down, tipping his up so she can see his eyes again. "She's always here." Her fingers press above where his heart beats slow. "No matter what. Mommies are always with their babies."

He frowns at that, too young to understand what she means. Her eyes coast out to the horizon where the blue sky collides with sapphire ocean. "Can I ask you something?" She whispers down into his temple, smiling at the nod he gives back. "Do you know where your mommy is?"

"Papa says in the sky."

"He's right. And do you know where the sky meets the ground?"

He shakes his head no, sitting upright in her lap with wide eyes. "They meet where the ocean touches it." She grins, watching the way his eyes flick out to the horizon inquisitively. Shifting him so he sits with his back resting against her chest, her chin falls to the crown of his head. "My father used to tell me that if you sent something with the waves of the ocean, it will reach the sky."

"We could send my mama something?"

"Yes. If you'd like."

His smile beams bright as he tips his head up. "What do you send?"

"Anything you'd like."

His smile falters at that, and it makes Regina's heart clench in her chest. "I don't know what mama's like." He confesses in a quiet whisper, looking back out at the expansive waters. Her arms wrap around his little torso, tugging him a smidge closer with a small sigh as they grow quiet.

"Regina?" She hums in answer. "What did Henry give you?"

Her stomach flips over, churns and knots at the mention of her son's name. Roland knows of him, that he is in another world, and that she loved him with her entire heart. Swallowing back the hot burn in her throat, she leans her cheek against his curls, "Well, he used to draw me lots of pictures."

"Do you think my mama would that?"

"I think she would love it." She blinks back the lining of tears, unwilling to let Roland see just how much her heart aches for her baby boy. "Why don't we draw her one right now?" He nods beneath her and they settle together on the grass, Regina's magic producing crayons, paper and paint for them to play with. It's been a long time since she's felt this way before. Content to sit in the dirt and simply enjoy the company of a child. She sits and watches the concentration in his brow, the tongue that sticks out as his hands draw whatever is in his heart. Slowly as the minutes drift on, the photo blooms. It's him, holding the hand of a woman she suspects is Marian what with the matching curls he gives them both, standing underneath the sun and a tree, smiles drawn on both faces. She helps him write out a few words, and guides his fingers to write his own name on the bottom, and he beams at the finished product.

"Do you know what else I think your mama would like?" She grabs a fresh piece of paper and dollops a blob of yellow paint onto his palm, chuckling as he frowns down at the mess she spreads across his hand and fingers. "Press down hard onto the paper." She helps his hand turn over, a few droplet splattering on the white canvas, and together they squish his hand down, wriggling the tips of his fingers before pulling up in one smooth motion.

"It's my hand!"

She smiles, kisses his cheek and paints a few green strips along his palm other hand. He attacks the vacant space with vigor, squashing the paint into a messy handprint with a giggle. "Can we paint your hand to?" She stills, but grabs a second paper. "No. On mine!"

"But this one is for your mama."

He scowls at her, adorably so, as he grabs her hand and splatters purple paint onto her palm and presses her hand down beside the two smaller versions of his own. Tears burn the backs of her eyes as he rubs her fingers down onto the paper, ensuring her handprint stays entirely. She lifts her hand and stares down at the photo. "See. Now she will know who you are too!"

His dimpled smile steals the breath out of her lungs. "I suppose she will."

She magics up a quick box for the paper to sit in and they walk down to the beach edge, his hand still painted faintly green entwined with her purple smudged fingers. Rolling up the drawings and handprints in a tight red ribbon, she places them into the small oak box and lets Roland push it out into the crystal blue current, her magic invisibly assisting in its straight line journey to the horizon where the ocean meets the sky.

"Do you think she'd like me?"

She melts and wraps her arms around his belly as he stands in the sand watching the box fade from view. "She loves you." She whispers into his curls, kissing his cheek softly, perhaps confessing more than just the feelings of a woman she's never met before.

His hand leaves her when they part at the dining hall for dinner, and she walks slowly back to her room, picking off the purple paint that lingers on her nails. Her room is quiet, dark now that the sun has drifted behind the mountains. It leaves her alone once more with the thoughts of her son and if he had made Emma something for this special day. Sitting on the chaise on the balcony, her heart aches for him.

"Regina?"

She turns at the sound of  _his_  voice, barely whispering out her name as he stands against the balcony door frame. He is probably the only person brave enough to enter her bed chambers without knocking first. How that happened she still doesn't quite know, but his company is not wholly unpleasant. He smiles shyly, knowing he has interrupted her solitude, but sits down beside her regardless if she actually invited him to or not. Whether she leans into him, or he just sits close is a mute point as his thigh brushes against her own. "I wanted to say thank you for what you did with Roland today." He turns, finding her eyes. "I've not seen him smile like that in quite some time."

She shrugs, toys with a frayed thread on the blanket resting on her legs. "It's nothing."

"No. It meant the world to him." His fingers lace between her own. This is also something rather new between them. Touching without hesitation. It's gone no further than simple fiddling with fingers or roaming hands in safe places, but it's nice. Gives Regina a strange sense of comfort and companionship she hadn't been looking for. His thumb runs over the staining of lavender on her fingers and she notices his palm is tainted in a dark green. Her eyebrow arches at him, and he smiles sheepishly. It makes her heart flip. Something about his smile just makes her feel… different. A good,and unexpected different. They sit quietly together, hands intertwined softly as the sun finally gives way to the moon and Regina lets out a muffled yawn into her elbow.

"I should leave you to get some rest."

She nods, but doesn't really want him to go. With her hand still tucked into his own they walk to her door, Robin turning at the wooden frame to scan her face once more. His teeth peek out to bite down on his lower lip as he fiddles to grab something in his back pocket. Her eyebrow cocks at the folded pieces of paper he extends to her, a green braid of grass blades holding it closed. Thumbing over its edges, she feels Robin's lips brush against her cheek, a low whispered, "Happy Mother's Day, Regina," ghosting out. She blushes at the contact, but leans into it for a second longer before he leans back with a gentle smile, tucking a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. She nods, whispers out a,  _Thank you_ , in return and squeezes his hand as he steps out the door.

Sitting down on her bed, butterflies swirling in her stomach at the tingling feeling lingering on her cheek where his lips just left, she opens the parchment. Her heart flips over at the two messy painted handprints on the paper. One, small and blue, the other large and dark pine green. Her fingers trace the edges of them, palm laying flat over the bigger one, reveling in the size of it. She likes his hands. Holding them. Feeling the built up callouses of living in the forest blended into the soft smooth skin on his palm. There is a second and third piece of paper behind the painting and her heart stalls in it's happy flutter at the charcoal sketch. It's a profile, of her and his son, sitting on the log from earlier today, a smile etched into her lips that press into the curly hair. Apparently Roland wasn't the only one hiding in her apple tree cove. It's stunning. She didn't know Robin could draw like this. The edge of her jaw smudge out, eyes rimmed with dark lashes, and she can see the sadness in her eyes masked behind the happiness. He sees her far too well. Wiping away the brush of tears, she sets the second drawing beside the first.

Her hands shake as she looks back down at the last sheet. It looks just like him. Her boy. Beaming up at her from the black penciled lines. Her tears fall as she traces the lines of his face, the roundness of his cheeks, freckles that dot his cheekbones, perfect almond shaped eyes that hold all the love and adventure in his pure heart. Even his hair feels silky and smooth along the charcoal sweeping smudges.

She hugs the drawing to her chest, sinking back down into the pillows with a heavy, hard sob. It had been one quiet night she'd confessed she just wished she had a picture of him. Something physical she could touch out of fear her mind would lose the details of his features, not that it could ever happen, but just in case.

Laying the sketch on her bedside table with the other two, she see's the small scripture on the back, gently scrawled in delicate lines.

_There is no distance between us._

_For I hold you in my heart_

_Forever and Always._

The End.


	47. Sorry we are late.

You couldn't tell by just looking at her, standing there in complete and utter composure as she fastened the gold bracelet around her wrist, not a fleeting hint of nervousness skittering about the porcelain olive face that stared directly into the vast mirror in front of her. No. To the outside eye, one wouldn't say the once Queen of the Enchanted Forest was at all apprehensive about what was to happen in less than 20 minutes.

But that, being stoned featured to the world while her insides feel like jello in a hurricane is one of her many strengths. Her knees are far to wobbly in the tall gold heels. Palms sweat riddled, fingers shaking so terribly the damn clasp won't fasten though she's been at it for the past three minutes. No. To everyone else, Regina Mills looks like a woman of calm and serenity, but she is terrified.

Not in a way of fearing for her life, or that of a loved one being taken away type fear. It's an internal boiling of butterflies over a cauldron of self doubt and disbelief that no one can see. The lump in her throat swells to the size of a boulder, teeth bite back the sting of bile that creeps up every now and then. If she'd let her wall down, they'd all see the utter nervous wreck that she is. But that just won't do. She can steel herself for long enough to make it through the ceremony whilst curious eyes watch, and perhaps later she will find a nice bush to throw her digested lunch into.

Frowning at the gold clip that refuses to be integrated with its dangling partner on her wrist, a flicker of tears brim across long dark lashes. And she will not cry. Her makeup is far to perfectly done to have any of that nonsense happen. Screw the bracelet. She tosses it back down onto the oak vanity with a growl, huffing indignantly with a hot glare as it clinks harmless into a pile. Thank god her dress is stunning and no one will notice if she isn't wearing the defiant accessory.

He will like it, that much is certain. What with all the exposed skin of her back thanks to the low cut of the lace gown. Hunter Green with tiny diamonds strung about the entire length. White was never her anyway, and black would have just been ridiculous. If she is being truthful, she feel's rather pretty in the color. It certainly highlights the olive tone of her skin, the deep set plum of her lips, compliments the raven hue of her hair. If it wasn't for the simple gold necklace that hung between her breasts, illuminated by the dying sun, it could almost be possible for her to slip into the forest and blend in entirely. Perhaps part of her is still Queen of the Forest. A small part.

Smoothing out the lace that covers her arms, she checks her nails over once more, nothing fancy, just painted a soft mushroom grey, the color will go well with the white lilies in her bouquet. Time is ticking away as the musings of a few voices outside the tent call her attention, and there really isn't much more time she can stall. Not that she is trying to stall. She's not scared. Just in honest to God disbelief that this is happening for her.

Marrying a man she actually wants to, without anyone here to stop them from doing just that. Robin had popped the question, or rather shot the question at her almost a year ago, and time had flown past her. She is excited. Truly is. Wants nothing more than to be able to hear him introduce her as his wife. Mrs. Regina Locksley. It has a nice ring to it. Speaking of rings, she probably should grab the wedding band for Robin from the black velvet satchel before she forgets. That would just be embarrassing.

Rolling the steel band between her fingers, the emeralds glint in the peaking of sun from the tent opening, two of them set between a single block diamond in the middle. All sunken into the silver metal and perfectly him. Not that he was that inclined to be wearing something so lavish, lest someone spot it on his finger and try to rob them for it's value. But Regina had insisted more or less. He'd chided her playfully that is was simply to keep female eyes away from where they not ought to be prying. She neither confirmed nor denied that.

Tucking the ring into the green band that secures her flowers, she spies the gold bracelet once more, rolling her eyes heavy as she picks it back up in a last ditch attempt to get the bloody thing to hook.

"Wow. You look incredible."

It's the sound of her own voice, perhaps an octave higher, but it's a voice she knows to the core. Spinning on the spot with wide eyes and mouth agape, it's the last person she expected to be standing here. In a simple plum dress with a silver belt, hair lightly curled about her shoulders and a small smile on ruby red lips.

"I could say the same about you."

The two share a smile, before the Queen licks her lips rather apprehensively. She hasn't spoken to Regina in nearly three months. Had told her about she and Robin's engagement, and the look in the other woman's eyes tore a piece of her heart out. Heartbroken happiness. It poured out of the beaming smile Regina had given her through their magic mirror. But she could see the tears that swelled behind dark lashes. It what she had wanted for herself. A happy ending that had been stripped away from her.

She owes Regina everything. This chance at a new beginning, at acceptance, and at love. A thought passes her mind as she watches Regina take a few slow steps towards her, eyes trained on the gold bracelet clasped within her own hands, that she should say thank you more often, make the effort to ensure that they are both living at least somewhat happy. It's the least she can do.

"Here, let me." Regina takes the bracelet from the Queen, bites down on her lower lip, brows creasing together as she attempts to hinge the two sides together. She just watches her. Rather stunned she is here, but beyond grateful for it. She looks thinner, hair is longer than the last time they spoke, but still beautiful as ever. Even behind the sadness in her eyes she tries to hide.

"Do these even fit together?" Regina huffs down at the accessory, and the Queen lets a light chuckle out. "Seriously. How is this not connecting?" She fiddles again before letting out a conquering "Ha! There." before she lets the Queen's hand go, bracelet securely in place.

For a moment they just stand there, holding each other's gaze. And while the Queen vehemently refused to cry earlier, a single traitorous tear falls onto her cheek. One that Regina quickly brushes away with a smile. "You shouldn't be crying on your wedding day." She tucks a curl behind the Queen's ear and steps one pace back. "Well, do a spin for me." Her finger twirls playfully, much to the blush the flares into the Queen's cheeks as she rolls her eyes and does what was asked and slowly turns herself 180 degrees in a circle, giving Regina the complete spectrum of her gown.

"I have to say that dress is gorgeous. I'm almost annoyed I don't own it."

"Maybe I'll let you borrow it one day."

The comment thickens the air bittersweetly. Regina knows what the Queen meant. That perhaps on her own wedding this could be the garment she'd wear. But that ship has long sailed, her beloved archer at the helm as it faded into the unreachable distance.

Sensing the sadness, the Queen reaches for Regina's hand, smoothes over her thumb and spies the sapphire diamond that sits on a ring laced about a silver chain. "That was daddy's ring." She toys with the band as Regina smiles against the previous burning of tears.

"I brought it for you actually."

The Queen's eyebrow arches high as Regina slips the necklace off, the diamond ring following suit before it falls heavy into her palm. "I didn't know if you were doing the whole; something old, new, borrowed and blue." She presses the ring into the Queen's hand, closing her fist around it tightly, "But I figured this could be all of the above?"

For a moment, she is at a loss for words as she twiddles the ring between her fingers. "Thank you." She locks eyes with Regina who now fiddles with the empty chain about her neck. "He would have wanted you to wear it."

"No. Not just for this." The Queen swallows heavy. "For being here."

Regina sniffs hard, tucks her hair back and swallows down the lump in her throat. "There's no place I'd rather be."

The hug happens fast, the Queen tugging Regina tight into her arms, holding the woman who has given her a new chance at life with everything she can muster. "I'm happy for you." Regina whispers between them, "Truly."

"Hey mom's. I think everyone is ready to go."

Regina pulls back at the same time the Queen stiffens and her jaw hits the proverbial forest floor. He's so big. And handsome standing at the opening of the tent in a black tux and dark green tie.

"Henry?"

"Hi Mom." Her son steps into the room, beaming brighter than the sun that is lighting her heart on fire, and wraps her up in a fierce hug.

"I can't believe you're here." She stumbles over the words as she feels just how tall he is now. Taller than she, all chiseled jaw broad in his shoulders, and hair slicked to the side neatly.

"Well someone has to walk you down the aisle right?" He kisses her cheek and grasps her hand. "Is that okay with you?"

Is the most ridiculous question she's ever been asked, and god dammit her makeup is going to be smudged beyond belief as tears flood down once more. Whatever, she can fix it with a wave of her hand. This is more important. Holding her son. Breathing in the summer fresh scent that clung to him as a child. Her fingers run through his hair gently, a motion that has him chuckling and pulling slightly away with a happy "Hey now, this hair took mom forever to get right." His eyes flick up to Regina who stands not three feet away, smiling softly at the pair.

"It's the cowlick in the back." She chuckles, walking up to them with a kiss pressed to Henry's cheek. "Never did like to stay down."

"I remember that." The Queen bites happily down on her lip, running her hand down his chest and fixing the tie she mussed up. "It's in every school picture."

"My own personal style."

"Messy bed head?"

"More like, too cool for a hair brush."

The trio laughs, and Regina hears the low chime of the harp outside the tent.

"Well I guess we should get this going. You ready mom?" Henry extends a bent elbow out to both of his mother's, chin jutted up into the air stoically with a grin as Regina hands the Queen her bouquet and they all walk out of the tent into the dusk sky.

Regina leaves first, taking a seat beside Jefferson who tips his hat at the Queen's baffled expression the hatter is present. Appears there are a lot of unexpected guests. Granted she and Robin only asked the quiet older couple that lived on the farm next to them to attend their wedding. It wasn't supposed to be anything grand, just the pair of them and the forest where they belong.

But the more the Queen walks beside Henry, down the white velvet carpet towards the altar she hasn't even glanced at yet, the tears swell in her eyes as she see's Granny and Ruby tucked in side by side one row back, beside Tinkerbell, with who looks as though she is about to burst into tears. Hook and Emma are on the opposite side of the aisle, the pirate bouncing a small baby girl in his lap as four of the seven dwarfs lean over and babble happy faces at the child. Maleficent slides in beside the vacant seat next to Regina, her hand moving to lace with the brunettes fingers comfortingly as she always had done.

It's nearly overwhelming. All the people that are here for her. That wanted to come and see her live her happy ending. After all the terror she had put them through, it seems forgiveness runs rampant in this group.

Finally, she lets her eyes move up, and there he is. Looking at her as though the only thing in the entire world that exists is her. It's all clean cut hair and neat pressed clothes. Not that he is wearing a tux or anything, it's a simple clean white linen shirt underneath a dark green and gold embroidered vest his father had given him, and brown straight trousers that tuck into his boots. For a moment she doesn't think she has ever been more enamoured by him before. It steals her breath away just how much she loves this man who has chosen to see past all that scars that adorned her heart and love her for simply her.

Henry's hand squeezes her's tight as the come to a spot at the archway, a kiss pressed to her cheek as the friar asks softly who gives this woman away. It takes everything in her to not let her heart burst as Henry proudly states that he, her son does. Robin steps down, pulls Henry into a hug and turns to lace his fingers into her own. Henry leaves them with one last whispered "I love you" into her hair and sits down beside Maleficent.

It's just them now. Standing toe to toe in front of all these people.

"Hi." He breathes through a dimpled smile.

"Hi." She grins back, breathing out through her nose as evenly as her pulsating lungs will allow.

"I want to thank you all for being here today, to wit-"

A small clattering of chairs halts the preacher mid speech, as all eyes turn to find Snow and Charming half tipped over and bright as tomatoes in their embarrassment. The crowd goes quiet as the Queen arches her eyebrow at the pair who quickly scramble to their seats beside Emma.

"Sorry we're late." Snow hushes out.

For a moment no one says anything, at least not until the Queen and Regina lock eyes and proceed to both burst out into laughter, the rest following suit as Snow hides her face in Charmings shoulder, giggling at the ridiculous statement she just echoed.

Seems life really does come full circle.


	48. Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ Prompt Week - One of them has Amnesia.

Hospitals are….not her cup of tea. Everything smells stale and bleached beyond recognition. There is a constant whispering between hushed voices, muffled words and scowls between doctors and nurses over patient charts. Not much about a hospital is very happy. Sure, people come in with injuries and leave fully recovered, but sometimes they don't. Sometimes people never leave the confines of this white walled fortress, and other times they are taken out in a body bag. Pain is everywhere. Not just physical, that can be handled easily with IV's and morphine, but it's the psychological pain that lingers and claws it's grimy hands around this place. Patients in pain when they are told they will never walk again. Parents in pain seeing their children being wheeled off to surgery. Friends staring into the abyss waiting and praying to whoever that their person comes out safely.

No, hospitals are not her favorite place. But it's where her life now revolves around because of a particular patient, and the pain in her heart that refuses to go away. She's been his  _doctor_  for six years now. Walks the same hallway down to room 23 with his ever growing medical chart in hand, a glass of lemonade in the other, a favorite of his she's come to learn over their time together.

Each day is much the same, his condition hasn't improved, the car crash he barely survived has taken away all of his memories. Of his family back home who waits, his job he will most likely never return to, the friends that visit every now and again, and the family he has, who love him so much and miss him even more. Pain. It surrounds him though he doesn't feel a thing.

But every morning at half past ten she knocks on his door, hoping that it might be the day something has changed. Today is no different. With his drink in tow, she pushes his door open to find him staring rather intently out the window. A frown creasing his forehead and crinkling the lines around his bright blue eyes. It's an expression she hasn't seen before.

Sure there has been frustration for him in his recovery. The first few months after coming out of the coma. The braces around his legs and spine to keep him upright as he learned to walk again. Learning how to speak again. That was exhausting for her. But they did it. After nearly a year, he could finally form proper sentences to voice his thoughts and needs rather than shakily scribble on a pad of paper, or use their made up tapping code with his fingers on her palm. One tap meant yes. Two taps was no. That was their entire conversation. Filled with her asking him questions, and he tapping her hand. She damn near cried the first time he said hello to her. It was the progress she'd been waiting on.

But that feeling of utter relief and joy soon took a rapid downhill sink when he asked her what her name was. He didn't remember it. Didn't remember her. And that's how they figured out that the traumatic brain injury he had suffered caused extreme memory loss and day to day amnesia.

Other doctors had sighed and patted her shoulder, telling her there was nothing they could do. The brain is a fragile organ, and sometimes the damage is irreparable. She refused to believe them. Which is why she has stood in this doorway in the place she hates most, and told him her name every day.

But this look, the way he doesn't even turn to acknowledge her is jarring, and it makes her heart sink slightly. If this is another setback, she has run out of options with his rehab. They will just have to live like this, in two separate worlds, where his smile will forever have her stomach flipping over into a cloud of butterflies and that will be it. She won't leave him, but there will be no growth between them. Not anymore. He doesn't even remember seeing her yesterday.

"Robin?" She sets her charts and his lemonade down on the side table, sitting on the bed next to his hip. "Are you alright?"

He huffs quietly, scowls at the sun outside before turning back to her, scanning her face for any source of recognition. It's a longer look than she is used to. And something feels different about him. She should probably check his vitals and do her routine morning checklist of him. Hopefully he isn't declining. Her heart couldn't take that. The past six years have already taken a toll, and the threads are barely holding the beating organ together.

"I'm Dr. Mills. I just have to give you a check over okay?" She sits and reaches for her stethoscope. His eyes follow as she places the chilled tool on his chest, plugs in her ears as she listens to his heartbeat for a moment. "It's still going strong." Regina smiles, leaning back and jotting a few notes on his chart.

He doesn't say anything, just nods and follows her with his ever inquisitive eyes as she stands and moves to the other side of his bed. "You're beautiful, has anyone ever told you that?"

Little does he know, it's him who does. Every day she sees him. He comments on how stunning her eyes are. How impressive her brain is. The brilliance of her smile. Silly as it may be, she loves hearing him say them. She is no stranger to men admiring her, but he is the only one who can say something so simple and it has her heart banging a trumpeting chorus in her chest.

"Thank you. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I suppose."

He's always fine. Every damn day, that's all he is. Just fine. One day she hopes he will say he's good. That would be such an improvement.

She places her hand in his own, "Can you squeeze my fingers for me?" He does. On both sides, and at least his strength hasn't gone down hill. Physical Therapy has done him well. She squeezes back for a moment before letting her hand slide out of his. He frowns at that but says nothing, just stares at her with that same intensity.

"I'm going to check your eyes now okay?"

He shuffles to lay back on his bed, but when she brings the retinoscope up to his face, his hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her from coming any closer. The contact tingles in a way it shouldn't anymore. "This won't hurt, I just need to look at your eyes." Just like every other day.

His eyes stay locked on hers, fingers still wrapped around her wrist as he moves her hand to the side, and he scans her face over and over again until a small half dimpled smile parts across his lips.

"Is everything okay?"

"I know you."

The words steal the breath out of her lungs. Not once, in six years since he had been brought into her care has he ever had any inclination of knowing who she was. Tears flood into her eyes as she tries to stifle the urge to hug him. It could simply be fluke. A trick of the brain that is healing. And she dare not linger on the prospect of hope. She tried that before, and it didn't exactly work out in her favour.

"I'm your doctor. I see you everyday." She smiles, patting his chest softly. "For six years we've known each other." It's been longer, but again, he doesn't know that.

Robin frowns at that. "No. I mean I remember who you are."

She doesn't exactly know what to say to that, just tilts her head to the side curiously, "And who am I?"

"Regina. That's your name. Regina Evelyn Mills."

Her jaw drops. In the past six years her middle name has never been brought up. Not once.

"You're right." She swallows thickly at the bubble of hope caught in her throat.

"You grew up in Maine, in a small town where you used to be the mayor."

A tear falls from her eyes as she nods, bites down on her lip not wanting to interrupt his break through. It takes a moment, a long frozen second in time that he turns his eyes down to her hand that is gripped within his own, the single silver band around her left finger, one that matches a ring that sits on his left hand.

"You were my wife." He whispers out.

A half laugh half cry escapes her as she reaches with her free hand to tip his chin up, finding his eyes staring up at her in disbelieving promise.

"No," She leans into his lips, uncaring if anyone were to walk in as her forehead meets his own, "I am your wife."

He closes the distance before she can, pressing their lips softly together as her tears fall.

"I...I remember you."

Fin.


	49. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ Prompt Week #2 - Sex Related Injury

 

She has never seen the Queen eat or even touch a slice of her famous chocolate cake. Not once. Everyone else loves it. But the Queen just passes by it silently. Except for today. She'd come in all draped in silk and velvets, and marched right up to the dessert table in the great hall and deposited a rather large piece onto her plate.

Which means something is off. The Queen doesn't eat cake. She doesn't sit and twiddle her fork between mouthfuls of sugary sweets and eye up the door as though something fantastic is about to walk through them. And yet, the longer she watches the way the Queen is spooning down the chocolatey concoction, the more apparent it becomes that behind the metal little utensil, the Queen is smiling. Actually smiling. Some bizarre shy thing that Granny can without a shred of doubt, down to her very bones, knows she has never ever seen this smile grace the Queen's face before. There is nothing fake, or masked about it.

She is smiling like a love sick pup if she's ever seen it. And eating chocolate cake! Something is definitely different with the woman. She watches the Regina for a few moments, and on occasion she see's the Queen stretch her neck, her hand moving to the back of her head and rubbing gently at the back of her scalp with a grimace. Perhaps it's a headache. That could explain the sudden interest in dessert, a brain injury that has Regina's plate consumed with anything but her usual pitiful stack of vegetables she rarely touches. Granny makes a mental note to ask her about it later.

The hall door opens, and the Merry Men come bustling through, in a stampede towards Granny and the buffet. Endless bottomless pits they are. Adorable and rather funny, but they could eat her out of this entire castle if she let them.

Her cake is gone before she can blink, the scones and tarts vanished as the forest men kiss her cheek and make her blush over how damn delicious these treats are. Bunch of suck ups. And then there is their leader. Who saddles up behind them with a shake of his head before he grimaces and pinches his nose with a groan.

It's broken. His nose.

She asks with a cocked eyebrow, and his cheeks flood red when he shrugs something about hitting a hard surface and walks over to his table with the men. But his eyes flick up innocently to the crowd around him, to a table sitting a touch higher than the rest. Where the Queen is licking off the last remnants of chocolate frosting from her fingers.

She's looking at him too. The Queen is actually looking at the thief. And without her usual contempt and hostility towards the man. It has Granny's eyes widening as she watches the way Regina grins from behind her spoon and taps her nose with a wink. Robin smiles, grabs his fork with a slice of cake teetering on it's edges and winks back.

Broken noses. Head injuries. A new found love for chocolate cake. And a pair of dopey poorly hidden smiles being traded back and forth.

Granny smirks as she grabs herself a slice of apple pie. Clearly cake isn't the only thing the Queen is trying these days. And it's about damn time too.

Fin.


	50. Ravenna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ Prompt Week #3 - Regina meets DarkOQ baby

When she heard what happened, the world fell out from under her feet. She cried for days, weeks, inconsolably locked in her room where not even Henry returning from his travels could persuade her out of. How could the world be so damn cruel?

And cruelty never sleeps, just leaves a wake of devastation it's in path and walks forward without even a second glance to those it torments behind. It's the story of her life really. Being thrown heartbreak after heartbreak and having to force her feet to get up and move forward one step at a time.

She thought she was done with all that after Robin died nearly six years ago, but life is ruthless and unkind still. And now she finds herself frantically nervous at the light knock against her door that echoes out like thunder.

This was not how she anticipate this situation happening. There should have been smiles, and possibly a few happy tears, but not this. Never this. But what was she going to do? Say no? That was just not possible. It wasn't part of her DNA to do something that horrible as to turn her back away and run.

Fumbling with her hair that curls just below her shoulders, a shaky breath expels with every click of her heels against the wood floors that bring her closer to the white door. It's another knock that has her hand flying to the knob, but not quite turning it, fear running rampant in her heart as to what is on the other side, or rather whom.

"Perhaps she's at Granny's." A low muffled voice whispers sadly from the other side. And it would be so easy to just let them walk away. But that's not her. She will not hide from this. Swallowing the bile in her throat and begging the high heavens to keep her tears at bay she twists the golden handle, the chill of winter blowing into her quiet mansion as two people turn slowly back around to face her.

It's all blue eyes, long dark chocolate hair, deep set dimples, and a small spattering of freckles on pink cheeks. She's beautiful. This little girl that stares up at her in shocked silence, clinging to the hand of the strange man tighter as her little feet shuffle her even smaller body behind his legs. She is absolutely stunning. Even as she hides herself away.

Perhaps Regina isn't the only one absolutely terrified of meeting the other. But children are her kryptonite. More than that, children who have big alligator tears that bloom against thick lashes and fall onto rose tinted cheeks are her weakness. It's the mother in her. The demanding need to comfort and soothe the fears away.

Kneeling down even though her pants soak in the light spattering of snow on the porch, she folds her hands in her lap, as small as she can make herself, she sits back on her feet and smiles at the curious sapphire blue eyes that watch her from behind khaki pants.

"Hello, Ravenna. My name is Regina."

The little girl's curls hide her face as she shrinks away, and it makes Regina's heart clench tight. God, she looks so much like them. Almost to a point where it aches in Regina's very soul. This could have been her life, had her thief not gotten in her way one last time. They could have had this.

Regina swallows against the spear in her chest, "I know this is all very scary, but I promise you, I won't hurt you." She extends her palm out openly to the small child who peers widely from her curtain of hair.

The man beside her kneels down as well, kisses her cheek and pats her bum gently, "It's okay little one, go say hi."

They exchange a look, this stranger and the little girl, a quick terrified shake of dark curls and watery eyes before a puff of dark green magic blooms out of her hands. For a moment she freezes, wildly staring at Regina to see if she noticed what just happened, even as she stuffs her little hands quickly behind her, looking afraid at the magical outburst, or perhaps at Regina's reaction to it. Clearly she's tapped into her abilities quite young. Six years old if Regina remembers correctly. In fact, this little princess's birthday is only two months away.

She will have to make sure it's special.

"I have magic too." Regina twiddles her fingers, letting lavender pops of fireworks bloom into the sky. "See." She smiles, as bright blue eyes follow the spectacle in absolute wonder. For a second she wishes she would have set a barrier around her clothes, lest she freeze herself to death in the cold right now, but this is more important. Easing the rampant nerves of a tiny girl who has no idea who she is.

"Want to see something else?"

The little brunette nods, stepping out a touch closer towards Regina curiously. A flurry of bubbles billow about from her hand, popping gently above the child's head, letting a sparkling rainstorm fall down on top of her curls. It makes her giggle. A small, beautiful sound that has Regina nearly faltering in the mask of strength she desperately is trying to hold up.

She lets another batch go, watches with a beaming smile through tears as the girl reaches up to poke at the spheres, her dimples bursting through as she laughs and reaches for another. She really does look so much like them.

"Can you show me something with your magic now?"

Blue eyes meet brown, and Regina holds her breath. She neither shifts forward or back as Ravenna stills on the spot, a tiny crease in her brow as the internal debate rages on behind her bright sapphire eyes. She can see it clear as day. The replication of herself in this little girl, the way her lips purse a touch tighter, nose scrunches up defensively, but it's her eyes that give her away.

"You don't have to be scared." She smiles gently.

The little girl steps forward tentatively, step by step, her eyes widening with each and she reaches her tiny chubby pink hand to softly touch Regina's fingertips. It tingles and warms instantly as magic floods into her, a memory that swirls in a green forest fog, and suddenly that's exactly where she is.

In the forest, watching through the eyes of this little girl, who is tucked into her mother's arms as she reads a bedtime story, low and soft. A hand brushing through her curls gently, the feeling of a steady heartbeat against her back as a page turns. She smells like the lavender fields they played in, of rich warm sunshine and vanilla cake baked earlier today. Her skin is soft under the light creme dress they both match in. Her mother is beautiful, and she hopes one day she will be just like her.

Cuddling in tighter, her heart is happy, comfortable, and completely enthralled in the way her mother's voice pitches and hums out the words she can't yet read. But the book is alive with tiny characters, a heroic prince in the midst of saving the princess from a terrible dragon who breathes a roar of miniscule fire. It's her favorite part of the story.

A door cracks open.

"Daddy!"

He walks in with a smile, bends down, runs his fingers over her cheek affectionately, grins a "Hello, my little love," and presses a kiss to her forehead. She can feel the heat of the contact, the way his large hand cups the back of her head, she is so small and he so big. He snuggles her tight for a moment, letting the smell of pine trees and fresh river water rush over her, he waits a beat, tips his stubbly chin down and smiles mischievously. She knows what he is about to do, bites down on her lip in anticipation and his hands move and she shrieks when he scoops her up high into the sky with a happy laugh, twirling them both about before falling back onto the bed.

She is breathless from giggling.

She feels loved, and safe, snuggling into her mother's side, toying with a lock of dark chocolate curls, her father wrapping a hand around her tummy, securing her tight to them both, immediately finding warmth between them.

"What are we reading tonight, my girl?"

And this is how her heart usually finds calm. Where the monsters can't get her, and the scary people dare not try. Her parents protect her and she is safe with them. Always.

The memory fades and all Regina can see is the tears swelling on the thick lashes of this little girl who stares up at her soul shatteringly sadly. "Ravenna. I'm so sorry."

A hand reaches to touch Regina's cheek, uncertainty in every flicker of her blue eyes as she takes in the features she knows far too well, ones that were of another woman who was taken away from her. Her hair isn't long like her mother's, but the color of chestnuts is the same. And she doesn't smell like lavender and vanilla, but of roses and chocolate. It's different, not really what she wants, but it's similar. Her eyes are identical though, big, brown, and beautiful. But these eyes look at her differently.

She is sad, and there is sadness behind that sadness even. But everything else is the same and it makes the tiny heart in her chest ache.

"You look just like my mommy did."

Regina sighs, bites back the burning of tears and reaches out to tuck a curl behind Ravenna's little ears, taking a moment to marvel at it's length and softness. She does look so much like her mother, this tiny replica of a woman, now resting somewhere better as they say, alongside her soulmate, and Regina's as well.

All three of them gone, and still she remains here. Did she mention how cruel life could be?

"I know."

Ravenna sniffs hard, and Regina tilts her chin up to catch her eyes. "You know what though?" The little girl shakes her head, curls bouncing about her tiny shoulders encased in a soft green cloak.

"So do you." She smiles, letting her thumb trace along the swells of her niece's freckled cheeks, "But your eyes, they are all your daddy's."

A tiny lip trembles. Regina's does at the same time.

It's cold outside, but the frozen concrete that has her knees soaked and aching barely registers when the little girl takes the last step and melts her body into Regina's arms, burrowing herself in as close as she can. She hugs her fiercely tight, combing through long chestnut curls, and swaying them gently from side to side. She feels it first, the chill of fingertips that dig their way underneath her shirt, search for a moment before steadying on top of her heart.

Ravenna sighs and sinks into it. It feels like mommy's heartbeat. Strong, steady and safe.

"I miss them."

"Me too. But I promise, I'll take care of you okay?"

"Okay."

Regina smiles, and inhales a much needed breath of relief as she scoops up her niece, and nods to the man who still stands on her front walkway. He just smiles and turns to walk down the pathway.

They had talked about it years ago, what would happen to their daughter, should anything unfortunate happen to them. They asked, and she promised.

And it's a promise she never intends to break.

Fin.


	51. It Changes Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQPrompt Week #4 - Robin telling Regina he can't have children.

 

* * *

She spies him in the corner booth as she enters the diner, smiling brightly at the little baby boy in his arms, a complete replica of David with chubbier cheeks and Snow's eyes. But Neal is definitely going to be a heartbreaker when he is older. And Robin is apparently his next victim of infatuation. He bounces the boy happily on his knees, chuckling as fat fingers poke at his face. It stills her for a moment, seeing him with a baby.

It's a chance she never thought she'd have, but thanks to a little (well a lot) of persuasion and the help of Belle, Rumple had figured out how to reverse Regina's infertility with a potion. A small vial of clear liquid that sits heavy in her pocket, burning a silent hole into Regina's thigh. It's been two days since she got it, and there hasn't exactly been a time to sit quietly with her husband and tell him.

But right now, seeing him play with a baby, it makes her mind fly into the future, the possibility of it being their own biological child that babbles in his lap. It's perhaps just that which has kept her from actually telling him about it. Children aren't about biology. Having the same DNA as their parents doesn't truly mean anything. Love is what bonds people together. Any two people. And they have adopted each other children, and there isn't a lack of affection for them just because they weren't conceived between them.

It's more the prospect of having another baby, swaddling diapers and midnight feedings in a rocking chair that has her excited. To be able to raise a child from birth with Robin. That is what has her heart stumbling over itself.

His eyes flick up and meet hers across the diner, and if possible he smiles even bigger, just because she is here. It makes her feel like a lovesick fool sometimes. The way this man can have the blood rushing into her cheeks with a simple grin. She settles beside him, nuzzling Neal on the nose as he immediately crawls his way into her lap.

"Playing babysitter?"

"David and Snow had to help Emma with unpacking."

"Ahh yes. Today is moving day."

"Indeed. And I figured that baby time was a lot better than moving couches and boxes."

"Well I agree with you on that."

They order lunch, Robin and Regina traded sideways glances at each other as Neal babbles between them, happy as a clown to be with his God Parents.

"I need to tell you something." Regina sips on her coffee, stealing her nerves as Robin peers over Neal's blonde head of hair with a curious cock in his eyebrow. "Something good or something bad?"

"It's just something. It doesn't have to change anything. But we need to talk about it."

"Okay?" He frowns slightly, plopping Neal down into his own booster seat so he can turn fully towards Regina. The way she said "talk" has him a bit anxious.

Blowing out a breath, Regina reaches over to lace her fingers with his, "Rumple found a way to reverse my infertility."

"Oh." His eyes fall from hers, and he stares down into his own mug of tea. "Well that's good?"

She stares at him, trying to hide the fact that his answer wasn't exactly the reaction she was hoping for. Clearing her throat, she flicks her eyes up to his, trying to figure out why he is staring down at his own coffee like it just told him it was all poison. "I know we haven't talked about having more kids but, this just gives us an option."

"Right."

"You don't seem happy about it." She sighs.

That seems to snap him out of it. The soft dejection in her voice. It has him shaking his head and reaching for her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, "Regina, I am. I'm sorry. I really am." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Something hides behind the bright blue dazzle.

Her lips twitch,"But?"

Robin exhales hard, toys with the ring on her finger momentarily before running his free hand through his tousled hair, and for christ sake he looks like he is either about to cry or fall into a million pieces right in front of her. "I...I guess I also need to tell you something."

She braces herself, his less than joyful reaction can only mean one thing, "You don't want more kids?" Her hair falls to hide her eyes so he can't see how shaken up she is by this revelation. Clearly she should have talked to him about reversing her fertility before asking Rumple for help.

"Oh Regina, no. It's not that." His fingers brush her chocolate locks out of the way and he sighs, a deep frown crevassed into his forehead. And she wishes she could have held back the crack in her voice as she muffled out, "Then what's wrong?"

"I can't."

"You can't what?" Regina stares at him bewildered, a beat of silence passing between them as Robin grimaces and reaches down to graze the silk of her blouse over her stomach. It hits her like a ice cold train, it's the exact same look she had in her eyes after she took the potion all those years ago. "Robin..."

"After Roland was born, I got into an accident. It took away my ability…"Tears flush his eyes, a hard sniffle follows with a shake of his head in defeat. "To be a father again."

"Well that's just not true."

"What?"

It's Regina's turn to smile, breathing out a soft relieved breath that it is only biology and not personal preference over having a baby with her. "We have kids." She squeezes his hand, "And you are their father." Her lips press to his gently, and she feels him relax into her affection.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Perhaps." Her shoulders shrug as she bumps him with her arm, "But we never thought this would be an option for us anyway."

He nods, his mouth parts into a dismal half grin, as his eyes drop from her once more and back down to Neal who is fists deep in applesauce. "Still. I should have said something."

"Robin look at me. This changes nothing okay?"

"But we can't have a child of our own."

Never in her life did she think between the two of them, she would be the one to have to pull the other out of a dark place. A sad place where it seems impossible to climb out of. He is usually that person for her. "Do you not consider Henry your son? Or me Roland's mother?"

"That's not what I meant." He scrunches his nose and laces their fingers back together.

"I know, but biology isn't everything. You and I know that down to the very core. We can always look at adopting again."

"You'd be okay with that?"

"Of course. If it's something we want to consider, having another child, then yes I would absolutely be okay with it."

Finally Robin actually smiles, that smile that has her heart spiralling out of control as he leans in to kiss her first this time. Sucking on her lower lip with a nip as she chuckles through a stifled moan. They are in public still, and supposed to be watching Neal not playing tonsil tennis. Seeming at ease, Robin sits back, hoisting Neal into his lap again before passing him off to Regina who cradles the small boy into her chest.

"Do you think Rumpelstiltskin would know how to help me?"

"He might. But it's not something we need to do if you don't want too. Like I said, there are a hundred babies out there waiting for a family."

"I know. But there is a part of me that can't get the image of you pregnant with my child out of my mind."

Well, if she wasn't already blushing before from their kiss, that certainly will do it. And it's not a lie to say she too hasn't thought about how it would feel. All swollen and round with his baby, and which one of them their child would take after. And not that it would matter but thinking about having a little mini version of herself or Robin is quite enthralling.

"I'd be fat as a whale, and moody."

Robin laughs, kisses her cheek and with a soft whispered "You'd still be beautiful to me.", he has Regina's lips splitting into an uncontrollable smile.

Damn Thief.

Fin.


	52. Scruffy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ Prompt Week #5 - Them having a conversation about her cutting her hair, why did she do it, him running his fingers through it. (#130)

 

* * *

She hates it. And he loves it. But it doesn't really matter. She still hates it. The way he no longer can card through at long length, sweeping a curl behind her ears and letting his fingers twirl about in her hair. It's short. And she misses the way he touched her when it was hitting below her shoulders.

It's all wrong now. Too short to tie into a ponytail. Too short to move behind her ears when she needs to see. Too fucking short to do well anything but let it hang there. And she hates it. Tries not too when she catches him looking at her in the reflection of her mirror. His eyes see too much. They understand the things she doesn't want to talk about.

The point is he is back. She figured out how to split her soul into two, with the help of the Queen before she left to live her own happy ending, and he is back. That's important. Not the way that curl flips beside her cheekbone that she wants to shear off. There is no time for her own demons. They are supposed to be happy and together.

But she can't help but scowl as she brushes through it. And for once, she just wishes she had back the length it was in the Enchanted Forest. Heavy and tangled as it could be, at least it was something better than the mop on her head right now. She hates it. Resigns herself to the fact it will do nothing but sit in a simple bob and nothing else.

"Love, you almost ready?" His voice draws her away from the inner irritation. He's back. She needs to focus on that. On him. Smiling to hide the fear inside, she turns, stands and grabs her clutch. They are having a date night. The first one since that time in her office when he put her heart back. Her hair was a perfect length back then.

His hands find her fingers as she fiddles with her watch, and when her eyes disobey her mind and look up, she sees the one thing she swore she'd never see again. Sadness in his gaze. He is sad because of her. And dammit her hair falls pitifully so in front of her face as she bows away from him. It's not the time for this conversation about how she spent a night in a whiskey induced state with puffy eyes and a snotty nose, slicing her locks into the bathroom sink because she missed him. Missed him so goddamn much that even the sight of her hair drilled a hole through her already broken heart.

She didn't want to have to run her fingers through it when all it would do is remind her of him. How he'd smile that stupidly adorable dimpled grin as he combed delicately through her hair before he'd kiss her. She didn't want the reminder of nights where she would fall asleep to him massaging her scalp and taking deep and steady breaths against her temple, always commenting how he loved her hair. She even changed her conditioner after she lost him. Just the smell of lavender made her sick to her stomach. He loved how she smelled. Claimed that lavender was the perfect compliment to pine.

It's vanilla honey now. Her conditioner. She hasn't changed it back, not without feeling him roll his knuckles through her wet hair in the shower as the scent of soft flowers infused the bathroom and coated the steamed walls. Eventually she will change it back. Maybe. Once her hair has finally grown out to an acceptable length.

"I have a confession to make." Robin sighs, and tips her chin up with his finger. Her brow raises silently at the way he bites down on his lower lip, blue eyes flicking around her face. And this is it. He is going to tell her how he wishes her hair was different. That he too misses the length it once was. That he just feels as though it doesn't suit her anymore.

"Please hear me out before you say anything."

She frowns, but nods a tad nervously.

"It's the way you style your hair."

See she knew it. She hates it and he hates it too. She's buying a bloody wig tomorrow. Will glue and duct tape it to her scalp and never take it off. Ever.

"It's just so…"

"Short." She supplies dejectedly. "I know. I'm sorry. It will grow out, it just take a bit of time. I hate it too."

It's Robin's turn to scowl, creases in his forehead deepening as he sees a line of tears brim on her lashes she desperately tries to blink away before he can notice. But he does notice. It's one of the things he prides himself on most. Being able to tell exactly what ails her when everyone else looks away. Even if she says nothing, it's just a simple expression that passes across her features for a fraction of a second and he knows what's wrong. Perhaps it's the soulmate thing.

"I'll try and find a potion to speed up the process."

"I'd be loathe to let you do that."

Her eyes fly to his, big, brown and completely confused. She's adorable. And he loves her. Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand through her hair, thumbing the curl that sits beside her jawline. "That what I have to confess. You have always been beautiful Regina. And it's not secret between us and most of my Merry Men and well everyone else in this town that I had somewhat of an affinity with your hair." Well that makes her blush, for a second, but the tears build and burn because she knows this too.

"But, this shorter style. Well, it has me absolutely besotted."

"What?"

"Tis true. I find myself completely enraptured with the way it frames your face, highlights your cheekbones, and from every single angle, I can see your eyes."

"You actually like it this short?"

Robin smiles, really smiles and leans in to kiss her soft and chastely as she stands there rather stunned at this revelation. He likes it. No. He loves it. Adores this ridiculous bob because it means he can see her without a curtain of hair to hide behind.

"I adore it. I adore you."

Perhaps she can live with it like this a little while longer. For him. Because he is back and he loves her, and for the first time since that night in her bathroom half drunk crying over the sheared off curls, she actually feels, well kind of pretty.

Pretty because he likes it. "Well, if you insist. You could use a haircut though." Regina blushes and scratches her fingers through his beard, "And a shave. Scruffy thief."

"Don't lie, you like me scruffy."

"I just like you."


	53. Banter

"You know, you piss me off."

"Do I?"

"Yes."

"Pray tell, what I've done this time to ruffle your feathers, Regina?"

"That! Using my name."

"Saying your name has you all up in a tiffed state?"

"It's the way you say it."

"Oh? And how would you prefer me to say it?"

"You could just... not."

"Not call you by your name? And what would you prefer to be addressed as?"

"Your Majesty works well enough."

"Hmmm, doesn't quite roll off the tongue as nicely."

"You and your tongue."

"My tongue?"

"Yes. It irritates me."

"Well, I apologize for that."

"Good. You should."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. You can pour me another glass of wine, silently."

"Giving orders now?"

"I am the Queen."

"So I've been told."

"Then you should know I don't like to be questioned."

"You know, five glasses of merlot is going to give you one hell of a hangover tomorrow."

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

"Just speaking the truth, Regina."

"There you go again! You need to learn to shut that pretty face of yours up."

"Pretty face?"

"What?"

"You called my face pretty."

"No...I didn't."

"Now, now, Regina, no need to lie."

"I'm not."

"You find me attractive don't you? That's why you are acting like this."

"I'm not acting like anything."

"You're mad at me."

"Observant aren't you."

"Is it because I kissed you earlier?"

"What? No. And that wasn't a kiss."

"Oh? Then what was it?"

"It was nothing."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying."

"But you still think I have a pretty face?"

"You know what, just go away."

"What if I'd like to stay and explore this attraction you appear to have for me."

"It would be a short conversation because I don't like you."

"No? So if I poured myself a glass of your wine and sat down beside you, would you kick me out?"

"I...It would be a waste of wine on my floors after I sent you off with my magic."

"And we can't have wasted wine now can we?"

"Not unless you want to pay for it with your head on a spike."

"That doesn't seem very pleasant. For either of us."

"I think I'd be fine with it."

"How would you get to see my  _pretty face_ in all it's living glory then?"

"Yes what a tragedy that would be to not have you around."

"Well if I can't convince to steal a cup of wine from you, then how about a good night kiss?"

"Ha! In your dreams."

"Well that is true. I have dreamt of your lips. On many occasions I might add."

"What? Why?"

"Because, Your Majesty. You have a beautiful face."

"I never called you beautiful."

"But I am pretty right?"

"I suppose you're easy on the eyes."

"See, I knew you liked me."

Fin.


	54. Happy Birthday Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SpookyOQ Week - Blood

"Happy Birthday Princess"

He sits in his chair, thumbing through an old book he's read a thousand times over and over again. Desperate to look between the lines and find something hidden within the words.

His wife mutters to herself in the kitchen, prepping dinner as they wait.

It's always about waiting.

Their entire life since that wretched man dressed in silvers and black waltzed through their door and promised a solution...for a price.

It's what their life has come down to. Paying this price. A deal he made to keep her alive when all hope seemed lost.

If they only knew just what they were getting in return.

He doesn't regret it….not really. He can't. She's alive. The love of his life breathes and her heart beats steady.

But this is not what he thought life would come down to. On the run once more, having villagers terrified of their faces. Children scream, mothers cry, fathers pull out their battle axes in protection. It doesn't help them survive these nights.

Nothing can.

Robin just kisses her hair and watches as she skips through the doorway, whistling that same damn song she does every year. She seems so happy, not a care in the world as she goes out their door and into the world like a shadow.

They tried. But this curse is unbreakable. There is no power of true love's kiss to vanquish the sins that live inside her. And the times they bolted her door, chained her to a chair and stood watch outside her door till the morning came, listening to her scream and screech...it was all for naught. And he hated it.

They'd open the door and it there would be a puddle of blood by the wooden chair. Chains ripped apart, wooden fragments piled, splintered, and stained red. The room would be empty and they knew she had escaped once more.

He just prayed she came home. For all the terror his daughter caused, it was still his baby girl and he'd die if she never walked back through that door.

It's a rule now.

She comes home and they don't speak about it. They don't look with horror at the blood on her clothes, or the things she carries back as token prizes. His wife smiles, takes her up to bathe and Robin sips a glass of whiskey and waits by the door for the torches and pitchforks to cast over the hill.

Like he said, he loves his daughter and her bright blue eyes that stare up at him, hoping that he isn't disappointed in her, wishing that he will simply swing her into a hug and tell her he adores her dimples that match his.

Regina sits down beside him, eyes cast over as she watches the door in waiting. He links their fingers together. Squeezes once and sighs as his eyes flick to the knob as well.

They sit in silence for what seems like hours until Regina finally gives in. Sniffing hard behind a curtain of hair.

"What are we going to do?"

"What we always do. We are going to love her."

"I do love her. You know that." She exhales heavy hearted, "But Robin, how much longer, how many more months go by with us fleeing?"

He sighs. Swallows a gulp of fire tinted whiskey. He knows her torment. They have to figure it out. There aren't many more villages they can run to before it catches up with them.

The golden knob turns and Regina's spine straightens as they both sit up. Slowly the oak creaks and swings open. And there she is.

"Momma! Daddy!"

Her blonde curls fly as she races towards them, crashing her body into their awaiting arms with a beaming smile.

Her teeth are stained. Robin says nothing when she looks up at her parents and fishes something between her teeth with her tongue. There is a crimson drip coasting down her chin that Regina wipes away quickly before cupping her daughter's cheeks.

They don't mention that her dress is dirty and torn. Mud soaked and ruby red splotches around the bodice. They will just change her into clean clothes and eat some birthday cake and that will be the end of another year.

"Hello, my love." Robin swallows the nausea boiling in his gut as his baby girl runs a fist through her tattered hair.

She's holding something.

"Did you have a good birthday?"

"Yes. Can we have cake now?"

Regina nods, pressing a kiss to her dirty forehead and magics the cake she's been working all day over onto the table. Raven squeals in delight and her little fist hits the table.

Six fingers come rolling out, torn at the knuckles, half mangled and chewed with crooked bones sticking out of their joints. Her blue eyes grow dark as she methodically places each appendage into the chocolate cake.

"Momma, light them!"

Regina bites her lip and flicks her finger and the smell of burning flesh simmers around them. It makes his stomach roll, though he fights the grimace he wishes to make as the skin uncoils from the meat, blood drips out from veins and bone turn to ash on top of frosted icing.

The cake is cut. A slice with a finger candle each, and Robin grips his fork in a sweaty palm.

"Happy sixth birthday, my girl." He mouths the forkful and tastes nothing but death on his tongue. Regina licks the frosting from her lips, feigning delight as she chokes it down and smiles at their daughter.

Six fingers. Which means six people from the nearby villages that decorate their baby's cake. Robin just hopes it's only a hand they lost.

"Baby, are you not hungry?"

Raven sighs and pushes her plate away, "I already ate."

Regina stills.

"Six is a lot."

Robin cringes and glances up at Regina who has gone white as a ghost. And to think next year is seven. But they love their daughter. This was the deal.

A life returned for the debt of many more. He just didn't think his little girl would be the one taking them.


	55. Where You Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SpookyOQ Week - Cemetery

 

* * *

It's bloody freezing out here metal smacks into dirt over and over again. The wool of her coat not doing a whole lot to stave off the chill that creeps up her spine even as she wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead with a leather glove.

Something in the distance cracks and her eyes flick frantically to the woods, scanning with a frown into the darkness. But it's silent, save for her breath. Must have just been an animal or something. As long as no one sees her, it's okay. They wouldn't understand anyway and she'd surely be carted off into the psychiatric ward if they knew.

Gripping around the wooden shaft of the shovel she starts again and the hole grows with every pile of dirt she scoops out. It's a damn good thing she opted not to wear heels and went for a more practical knee high soft leather boot instead. Makes it easier to sink down into the four foot hole and brace against the wet mud beneath her feet.

She slams the shovel back down and it smacks hard, jarring her shoulder as she winces as a lick of sharp pain ricochets up her arm. She taps the shovel again, and it hits something solid again. It's done. Sinking down to her knees, she scrapes away the dirt with her hands, brushing it away as the oak top comes into view. It takes her a few more minutes before the gold handles begin to peek into view. She's so close.

Peering back over the horizon, she takes one last look to make sure no one is watching before she curls her fingers around the latches and pries open the casket. Dirt flies as the top flops open, and she inhales the exact same moment, breathing it in and coughing furiously as the dust settles around her.

And there he is.

Tears flush her eyes as she sits down on her knees and strokes her glove over his stubbled cheek. He is so handsome. Even in death. Though his cheeks lack their previous pink tint, lips dry rather than soft, he's still beautiful. With dark blonde hair brushed away from his face, forest green vest tucked around the expanse of his chest. His cloak pillowed around him like a blanket. They buried him in his enchanted forest clothes. On the request of Little John and Friar Tuck. Regina had been the one to change him for the service. And the clothes she'd bought him in Storybrooke are now currently tucked away in her closet beside his bow quiver and arrows.

She wears his scarf still. The maroon soft cotton one she'd thieved away from him playfully after their office date. He'd kissed her, whispered a cheeky, "You little thief," and wrapped it around her once more. He could steal it back later she told him with a smile. But he never did. The day he died, she had been wearing it under her long black trench coat, tucking it around her neck like an embrace, and wishing as she laid a single red rose on his grave that it was his arms around her instead.

Leaning down, her lips press to his, and if possible, he still smells like forest. He's only been gone two days after all. And the pain of not having him with her had begun to take its toll. She needs to see him. Needs to feel him even if his heart doesn't beat. Which is why she is here. Underneath the bright light of the moon, sitting in his grave, and taking him back where he belongs.

Home with her.

Or to her vault at least.

She smiles sadly, wipes a tear away at the memory of when his eyes would crack open, revealing that sky sparkling blue as he greeted her with a grin. She misses him. Fiercely so. Looking over his face once more, and lets her magic swirl them away in a cloud of plum purple, leaving behind a perfectly manicured pile of dirt, evenly spread out beneath his headstone, looking untouched to anyone who wishes to pay a visit. They won't even know he is no longer underneath the dirt, but is now sleeping in eternal peace on her bed in her vault.

It's better this way. He looks comfier if that's even possible. Head laying softly on a red silk pillow, blanket tucked up around his waist to keep him warm, which is ridiculous but she can't help it. Her hand waves over his form as they settle in, ensuring he stays exactly how he looks right now.

Regina sighs a small smile and slips in beside him, a palm over his chest where his heart beat should be, a leg between his rigid thighs, and her nose tucked under his chin. And for the first time in two days, she lets her eyes close unafraid of waking to a blinding crystal blue lightning bolt that took him away in the first place.

No one would understand, but she just sleeps better with him beside her. And if this, curling into his stiff cold body will help stitch back the gaping wound in her heart, well fuck everyone else, she loves him, and he belongs here, with her.

Fin.


	56. Mama Said...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SpookyOQ Week 4 - Haunted House

He loves fall. Is completely enamoured with the myriad of reds, oranges and yellows in the trees, a water painting in the flesh. Adores the way the air is crisp and cool though the sun wraps him up in a warm hug. It's beautiful and by far his favorite season. Fortunately for him, it is also Regina's and they decided it's about time they take a much needed vacation together as a family.

It's nothing extravagant or globe trotting. Just a six hour drive to the coast of Maine, and he already feels like freedom is touching him. His breath is easier to take, stress melting away with every mile they drive further away from their quaint little town. He loves Storybrooke, he does. But there is just something wonderful about leaving it behind for a week and taking his wife, kids and their dog away.

A soft hand ghosts over his own, fingers lacing into fingers with a gentle squeeze and his eyes flick from the road to find Regina in a blissful smile as she stares out her window. The look of pure contentment on her face is stunning. She is stunning. All tucked up in a cream knit sweater, dark denim blue jeans and his burgundy scarf wrapped around her neck. He fiddles with the diamond ring on her left hand, grinning as she too smiles at the touch and sips on her caramel latte.

In the back, Roland is quiet as a mouse, which is odd for their son, but he is far to intrigued watching the trees fly past the window. It's his first adventure outside of Storybrooke too, and Robin can't hide the excitement that bubbles in his chest at the thought of late night campfires, fishing in the stream nearby and spending some real quality time with his boys. Henry hasn't been able to stop talking about all the things he wants to do on this vacation. Hiking trails, going swimming in the lake, and maybe if Regina finally relents, Robin can teach him how to shoot a bow.

It's going to be a wonderful vacation.

He found the place too. Has spent a month reading up on the bed and breakfast turned vacation home for rent. It's perfect. And it's coming into view as he makes the final turn between the trees and hits a dirt driveway. Beside him Regina gasps lightly. Her eyes wide and mouth parting in awe at the two story mansion erupts from the grass. White painted wood siding, dark blue window trimmings, a fantastic front porch with a swing they can have coffee on in the morning. A large turret juts out from the side, windows the entire way around, and if their house at home wasn't so perfect, he'd certainly entertain the idea of moving in here.

Henry and Roland are out of the car first, backpacks swinging as they run towards the front door without a second thought to helping their parents bring anything inside. A notion that has Regina sighing as Robin kisses the back of her hand gently with a grin.

"Girls actually stay and help."

Robin laughs, leans over the middle console to catch her lips, humming at the hint of caramel and coffee on her tongue.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see"

"Six months to go."

He closes his door, grabs their suitcases as Regina does pillows and blankets and they head inside hand in hand. It's a stunning staircase that greets them, dark hardwood and white spindled banister curling up to the second floor. Regina muses how impressive this place is as she walks over to the foyer, depositing the mountain of blankets onto a singular arm chair. It's all archways and decorative wooden features along the walls. A fireplace in the corner underneath a rather massive black mantle. There is a wood pile stashed inside, a stack laying crisscrossed on the floor. He should make a mental note to thank the owners for providing them with it. Less work for him do it.

His hand runs along the stone work of the mantle, and a flicker of heat hits his thighs. There are a few burning embers simmering at the bottom. Odd. Seems rather unsafe to leave a fire unattended like that. The little hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a chill runs up his spine.

" _Touch it."_

A small child like voice whispers in his ear, and Robin swirls around wide eyed.

But no one is there.

He can hear Regina in the kitchen putting away their groceries, and the boys have yet to be found, more than likely already outside playing. He's alone. Frowning, he runs a hand over his face. Exhaustion. He's probably just tired. It's been a long drive already. And works been crazy, plus the new baby on the way. It's just his mind going puddlely.

"Babe, can you come in here?"

He walks into the kitchen to find Regina with a hand on her tiny baby bump, scowling at the cupboards. Which in all honesty for as grand as this house is, the kitchen is rather lack lustre. There is a fridge on the side, a stove that looks as though it was made a hundred years ago, and about four cabinets. Two of which looks as though they are about to fall off of the wall if they so much as put a bundle of bananas on it.

"Well this isn't what the pictures showed." He grimaces, a bit flustered his magical vacation has a minor bump thrown into it. But Robin is nothing but optimistic. There is enough counter space. And the fridge is at least a decent size. They will just have to make due. He wraps his arms around Regina, nuzzling into her hair, "Why don't you rest, and I'll take care of the kitchen."

"If you insist." She settles down into a chair, and then she frowns.

There is only two chairs at the massive oak dining table. Who would only have two chairs? There is cutlery and plates set out already. All old english silver forks and spoons and two strangely large steak knifes. They look more like butcher's tools than actual utensils. She picks one up, and scratches a dark rusted mark on it.

They need to go get some new ones from the store, she is not eating with rusted knives. God knows who the last person using these was...or what exactly they were eating that has crimson rust built along its handle and blade.

She sets the knife aside and glances back into the kitchen.

Robin inhales sharply as he open the fridge and the smell hits Regina in the face.

It's rancid. Like old rotting meat.

It makes her gag into the sleeve of her sweater. Eyes watering from the stinging pungent aroma.

"Holy Christ. What is that?" She coughs and reaches for a window to open.

Robin swallows thickly, a hand in front of his mouth as protection though he still barely manages not to let his lunch make a second appearance. "It appears the last guests here didn't clean up."

"Clearly." Regina scowls, "What's in the fridge?"

It's tupperware containers.

Eight of them filled to the brim with dark muddy colored stew or something similar. He's adventurous, but not so adventurous to open the tubs of whatever the hell swirls and swills within them. It's off putting enough with just the smell of rot. But as he inspects them a bit closer, he see's thin white stickers with marked dates on them. Three are from last week. Two from the week before. The others that smell absolutely horrendous he doesn't feel quite brave enough to figure out when they expired.

Tipping one up to the kitchen light, his heart pumps hard as a mix of crimson and brown liquid ghosts up and down the plastic sides, something thick and heavy bumping into the edges. He's killed enough game to know what meat looks like.

That same chill runs up his spine.

" _Mama likes them cold. Says they taste better that way."_

Robin drops the container in his hand as he spins around only to find Regina staring stunned at him. He heard it this time. There is no doubt about it. There was someone else here. But surely Regina would have seen them. That little meek voice was right behind him, breathing on him, sending icicles into his skin with each whispered word.

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." Regina flicks her wrist, and the mess is cleared up in a plume of plum smoke as she walks over to him, cocking a questioning eyebrow his way. He looks around the kitchen, wraps his arms around Regina's waist and rests his head on the crown of hers. "Jesus, your heart is racing. What's wrong?"

He swallows, peers around the corners as best as he can. But nothing in there. The call of his name and the feeling of her palm pressing warm against his cheek has him dropping his eyes away from the black mantle fireplace in the other room and down to Regina's confused gaze. Worrying her won't do any good. He's not even sure what is going on. Best to not dwell on it right, after all there is no such thing as haunted houses.

"Must have been the smell. I'm sorry love." He tries to smile, though he can tell Regina isn't buying it. The caramel in her eyes glows a touch brighter beneath the dark chocolate hue. They always do when she is thinking about something. But this is a vacation for her mind to rest, and he is determined to make that happen. Bussing her lips quickly, he licks the moan from her mouth, and his breath far shakier when she smiles up at him, rolling her eyes because she knows he kissed her to stave off her questions. But she will take it. She likes kissing him and whatever it was that had him go white as a ghost has passed.

Henry and Roland are outside, he can hear them now with the windows open and Regina scoots out of his arms, grabs her coffee and heads to the back porch, the thick wood and mesh door clanging shut as she goes.

It leaves Robin alone in the mansion. And he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. He doesn't believe in ghosts, demons and the boogeyman, but he won't deny that gut feeling when someone or something is off, when the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall, palms get clammy and sweat riddled, and his heart beats thunderous and erratically against his chest.

He feels like he is being hunted.

So he becomes the hunter instead. Slowly walking through the kitchen, eyeing up the cutlery on the dining table, the large rusty knives have his brow creasing. He goes to reach for one, but something in the living room jingles. He moves, peering around the corner, where the single arm chair and fireplace stand. A dark curtain floats gently in the window. He doesn't remember opening it. Perhaps it was Regina? The chandelier above him sparkles in the sun, crystals clinking lightly together. That must have been the noise he heard. There is a closet door recessed behind the chair. Almost hidden by the overstuffed floral patterned high backing of the chair. It's odd having the furniture, scarce as it may be to be tucked up against the wall, inaccessible unless he moves it.

It's heavy. Scratches along to floorboards as he grunts and shifts it over. There is a lock on it. A singular gold chain above the dented door knob. His hand runs along the frame, dust lines forming between the cracks. He brushes it off on his pants and reaches for the knob, heart pounding as he tries to breath slowly to calm his nerves.

It's creaks as he turns it slowly.

"Daddy! Come outside and play!"

He damn near jumps out of his skin at the screech from his youngest son. There is nothing inside the closet, that's now open. Just a single light bulb and a chain hanging from the roof. No shelves, just a single blanket crumpled in the corner. Torn and moth eaten around the edges.

Shaking his head, he shuts the door, and blows out a heavy breath. He's just being paranoid. Perhaps some fresh air and sunshine will do him good. He leaves the living room, forgetting to shut the closet door on his way and heads outside.

.

..

…

..

.

It's a gorgeous afternoon. Regina sitting on a blanket underneath a tall oak. Henry and Roland swimming in the lake with Robin for hours on end. It's perfect. Just what they all needed. Time away from offices, computers and phone calls. Just family and no one else to interrupt them. By the time Robin comes walking up the beach, exhausted to the bones, the sun is beginning to set over the hilltops.

He falls onto the blanket beside his wife, grinning from ear to ear as she lays a hand on his chest and tips her head down to smile at him. She's damn beautiful. With the sun haloing around her hair, pink tinted cheeks from the slight coolness of the air. Just so damn pretty.

"Having fun?"

He nods, adjusts himself so his head can rest in her lap, dismissing her slight huff at the wet patch he'll surely leave on her pants from his river soaked hair. Though her irritation fades quickly as he turns to press a soft kiss to the tiny baby bump hidden underneath her wool sweater. Her fingers card through his hair, eyes focused on their boys in the distance, and she sighs back against the tree trunk. "We should come here every year."

"It is quite peaceful." Robin agrees as he laces her free hand on his chest into his hand. "The boys love it." Regina hums and tips her head down to him, far enough away that he has to reach up to kiss her lips gently.

"What would you say to a campfire tonight?"

"Sounds perfect."

He sits up, draping an arm around her shoulders, chest bared to the setting sun, something Regina is clearly enjoying as she snuggles up to his side, fingers gently toying with the spattering of blonde hair there. It really is a beautiful afternoon he muses, lets his eyes wander away from the boys and across the hills and treescape.

Someone is watching them.

From behind the trees to the right.

They can't be older than a Roland, eight at the most, a girl, it's definitely a girl. She's staring at Robin half hidden behind an oak tree. He feels frozen for a second, looking right back at her, she is paler than the moon, with jet black hair that hangs past her shoulders in white dress with frilled sleeves that ends just above her skinny ankles.

"Regina." He whispers as calmly as he can though his heart beats a thousand paces a minute. She hums against his chest, leaning lazily up to raise an eyebrow silently at him. "Do you see a person over there?"

He feels her spine stiffen. A narrowing in her eyes as she leans around his torso and scans the forest's edge. If she sees the girl, he's not going crazy.

"No." She glances up at him, "I don't see anyone." Robin's eyes flare open, head whipping around to where he just saw the strange girl with long dark hair.

"There was a girl there." He swallows thickly, mouth gone dry when Regina's asks him "Where?". She was there. Staring at him. At all of them. His eyes dart around the darkness of the tree's edge, "She was standing by that tree."

"Robin, babe nobody is there."

He can hear the hint of fear in her voice. Her eyes flicking between him and the forest's edge anxiously as he scowls and shakes his head. "Maybe it was a trick of the mind." Her hands cup his cheeks, thumbing over the stubble, "Are you okay?". He looks at her, into those beautiful brown eyes, finding some semblance of calm in them, enough that it has him nodding though his stomach rolls and knots nervously.

Regina is right. There is no one there.

At least not that he can see anymore.

"Perhaps you've had too much sun?" She shrugs. "Should we head inside to make dinner?"

He nods, gratefully leans into her lips that press to his forehead, one of his hands secured around her back, the other on her baby bump. He knows this feeling. The need to protect. But it's hard to fight off something he isn't even sure is there. Maybe he does need to eat.

.

..

…

..

.

His thoughts linger to the little girl as he watches his boys help Regina whip up some tacos on Roland's request. Tomatoes cut with one of Robin's fishing knives instead of the rather large butcher looking ones on the table, tortillas currently being heated and cheese melted over top of them by Henry and Regina.

He just can't seem to shake the feeling that something is off.

" _Careful, the stove is hot."_

"OW! Shit!" Regina cries out and the pan bursts into a momentary flame. "Jesus Christ." She shakes her hand violently as she spins on the spot. "God Dammit!" Henry turns the tap on, and Regina throws her palm underneath it, hissing at the contact.

"Mom you okay?"

"Yeah, I just burnt myself." She grimaces, flexes her hand as she wraps it up in a hand towel. "The pan must have been too hot and the oil caught fire for a second." She scowls at the torched chicken in the pan "Dammit, it's burnt."

"We have more, don't worry." Henry opens the fridge. "Holy moses, that stinks!" He quickly slams it shut with a new package of meat in tow. "That thing reeks!"

"You should have smelt it before Robin threw out the tupperware stuff inside!" She grins through a wince. "We don't know what is was, but it certainly was rotten hey Robin?"

"Robin?"

He's frozen to his chair, staring at the smoke that simmers in the pan.

"Dad?"

He heard that voice again. It's a girl. A little girl's voice. It knew the stove was going to catch fire.

"Hello?" Roland climbs into his lap, waving a tiny hand in front of Robin's stoned face. "Earth to daddy." Henry walks up beside his brother, cocks an eyebrow and claps loudly three times. "Yo! Dad! You in there?"

Robin jumps, eyes wide and he pants out a breath. "Sorry. Jesus Regina, are you okay?" He flies to her side, wrapping his hands around her clothed burnt one. Carefully he peels the towel open, and grimaces at the same time Regina hisses in pain. It's pretty bad. Nothing to take her to the hospital over, but still, he can see the raw red skin underneath the bubbling blisters already.

"Henry, can you grab my first aide kit from my bag?"

He turns back to Regina who is looking at him strangely, and he feel shame lick through his gut. "Did you hear something before the pan exploded?". She frowns and shakes her head. "It was a whisper. Like a little girl."

"Robin, you're kinda scaring me."

"I'm sorry. But I've heard her three times now, and earlier in the park, I swear I saw her."

"A little girl is talking to you?"

He shrugs, and presses a kiss to her wounded hand. "I know it sounds strange."

"It sounds crazy."

"I'm sorry." His eyes close as he leans to rest his forehead against her own. "Something in this house has the hairs on the back of my neck standing tall. I feel like we are being watched."

"By a little girl?"

He doesn't know how else to explain it. But he's heard her, he swears it to Regina as she lets a long breath go. "Do you think we are safe?"

For a long moment Robin doesn't say anything, just scans her face searching for an answer hidden within. He can protect his family. He knows that. But against something he can't see. That's an entirely new villain to take on. But he will be damned if he lets a single thing happen to them. And there is entirely a possibility that he is just imaging the entire thing.

"Should we go home?"

"I...I don't know. I don't want to frighten the boys, nor do I want to cut the vacation short."

"But?"

"I still can't shake this feeling."

Regina sighs, cups his cheek and smiles gently at him. Ever the worrying hero her husband. "How about we sleep on it, and if tomorrow you still aren't feeling right, we pack up and go somewhere else?"

"You'd be okay with that?"

"Of course. I trust you. I trust your instincts."

She leans up on her tip toes, presses a kiss softly to his lips, hoping to ease the deep frowning creases in his forehead. And it works. Sort of. He seems to breathe a touch easier at the affection. "Come on, you could use a whiskey."

.

..

…

..

.

They walk into the living room, finding Henry and Roland playing a board game on the floor. Regina settles into the single arm chair, and Robin sits at her feet. It doesn't hit him at first, but when his eyes flick over to the fireplace, he notices that the chair he moved, the one Regina is sitting on has been pushed back into place. In front of the closet door. But he didn't move it. It's to heavy for anyone else to have shoved it back either. The closet door hidden behind it once more.

He tries not to think on it. Perhaps the boys pushed it together. But none the less his heart quickens. And he listens for the little whispering voice to brush against his ear.

"You alright?"

"What?"

"You look concerned about something."

"It's nothing." He squeezes Regina's hand. It has to be nothing. There is no one in this house but them. There can't be. Ghosts are real. Demons aren't real. And Haunted Houses certainly are not real. Shaking his head he downs the rest of his whiskey, and lets Regina's fingernails scratch dully against his head and lull him into a sleepy state.

He feels his eyes closing, the heaviness of his brain as he sags against her knees, listening to Roland and Henry giggle quietly in front of him. It's consuming now. While he wants to stay awake and play games and roast marshmallows over a fire, his body is simply drained.

It's the second before unconsciousness takes him that he hears it, too far gone to wake himself at the sound, it's just a light hushed mumble into his ear, like a sweet lullaby.

" _Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite."_

.

..

…

..

.

" _Mama always wanted another baby."_

It climbs onto the bed spread, eyes wildly bloodshot, silently clawing at the blankets with broken nails, slowly pulling them off of a sound asleep Regina.

" _She wants a girl."_

A fleshy dead hand ghosts along Regina's baby bump, eyes turning black and hollow as she grins with spiked teeth and blackened gums. " _A pretty one."_ She leans over Regina, nose to her neck and inhales heavily with a shudder.

" _You smell delicious."_ Her tongue darts out against Regina's pulse, licking a line along the underside of her jaw and she swallows the taste of warm beating blood underneath thickly. A mangled palm brushes back a lock of brown hair, and she tips her head to the side, admiring sinisterly as she tugs gently, a strand of chocolate looped around her broken finger. She holds it up to her own soggy matted hair, admiring it's color, before sucking it off and swallowing with a lick of her lips, " _The ladies always do."_

Robin groans, and flips to his side, stretching outward for Regina, sighing as he finds her hand and giving it a half sleep riddled squeeze. The little girl watches from above her perched position. Eyeing up their conjoined hands repugnantly with a cringe and sneer.

" _Men taste like dirt."_ She snickers, trailing her fingernail over Regina's forearm, down to where Robin's hand is before going back up. " _Mama feeds them to the pigs if they taste bad."_ She hushes a high pitched giggle and turns back to Regina, stroking along her cheek and across her lips. A drip of dirt grey saliva hits Regina's throat. It trickles slowly down to her collarbone, weaving a stained trail against porcelain skin. It looks like spider webs the more it slips and slides, thick and riddled with muscoused sludge. A pretty little design.

In her sleep Regina grimaces and slides further down into the pillow, running a hand over her stomach, just beneath the frill of the little girls muddy dress.

" _Careful now. We wouldn't want you to get dirty."_ She tuts, scooting back on Regina's thighs, " _Mama would be mad."_

Her hand moves to the gauze on Regina's open palm, prying it open with a slicing nail, exposing the red blistered flesh below. She scowls with a shake of her head, daggered teeth digging into the pale bloodless cracked lower lip. " _We can't eat this piece. The meats gone all burnt and fried."_ Her tongue darts out, sampling the wound, " _Tastes icky."_

She scoffs disdainfully at the mark. Ugly thing. Cut of the hand with Mama's butcher knife. That would do the trick. Leave the rest of her fresh and juicy for her teeth to rip into. Licking her lips, she drags her scum nails over Regina's throat lightly, leaving a trail of red marks behind, " _The rest of you isn't spoiled though is it?."_ She claws over her collarbone, digging harder into her skin, smiling at the way the woman beneath her winces unconsciously.

"Robin. Stop."

She freezes, eyeing up the man beside her with a sneer. " _He can't hear you. Dead asleep."_ Her hand closes around Regina's neck. " _And dead forever soon."_  Her fingers squeeze against Regina's windpipe, and when brown eyes fly open, the little girls screeches delightfully.

.

..

…

..

.

He wakes with a jolt. Heart racing, pooled in sweat and bloody panting so hard his lung begin to seize. The sheets tangled around his torso and feet, binding his legs together tight. It's suffocating.

"Robin?"

He freezes. She is there. Beside him. Breathing and alive and unharmed. Looking at him as though he's gone absolutely mad, but still her hand reaches out to smooth over his chest, feeling the frantic pace of his heart beat.

"Are you alright?" He scrambles to his side, cupping her cheeks rather hard, but he need to feel her. Make sure she is breathing.

"I'm fine." She leans into his palm, running a free hand to scratch through his stubble. "What's wrong?" His eyes tear away from hers. They are in their room. In their bed. Home, in Storybrooke.

It was a dream. A nightmare. But not real. She is safe. His family is safe.

Sinking back down into the bed with a heavy exhale, he focusing on the feeling of her hand on his chest, the way her fingers roam through the light blonde coarse hair, drumming to the beat of his heart. "Tell me."

"Just a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head and sighs. The picture of that dead girl crushing Regina from above, screeching with black wild eyes, blood running from her mouth as blackened fingernails drove deep into Regina's throat, it's an image that will haunt him forever.

It was just a dream, but it doesn't make him any less terrified of it.

"I think we should figure out a different spot for the vacation."

"But you found such a gorgeous house on the lake."

"I just, I think we should go somewhere else."

Regina cocks an eyebrow at him, humming through pursed lips as she saddles between his legs, tossing one of her own between his and laying her head heavy into the nook of his neck. "Okay, but you're telling the boys." Her nose brushes against his jawline, breath warm and soothing as sleep begins to claim her once more. "Go back to sleep. It was only a dream."

She's right.

It was only a dream.

His eyes drift closed, and he tugs Regina a touch tighter into him beneath the blankets. It's quiet, peaceful even at this hour. The sun barely peeking through their blinds and he is grateful for the chance to doze off for a few more hours.

And sleep claims him before the whisper can hit his ears.

" _Good night sleepy heads."_


	57. Come Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of what Lana said Regina would say at Robin's Grave at NJCon 2017

 

He's noticed how tired his mother is lately. The circles under her eyes, puffier, a darker plum that usual, her cheeks hollowing day by day as another plate of dinner is barely touched. He's not seen her smile much as of late. It's been nearly a month since they lost Robin and everyday he knows his mother's heart grows weaker with longing pain. And it's a wound he can't heal. Try as he might, with additional time spent at home with her, making breakfast in bed when she hasn't asked, and all the extra hugs and  _I love you mom_  's, it's just not enough to help ease the loneliness that plagues her.

More than once he's walked by her room in the middle of the night, only to hear muffled cries stifled by a pillow. Seen how she quickly wipes away silent tears over a morning cup of cold coffee. She tries to hide it from him. From everyone. But the mask that she once was able to conjure is cracked and broken. It hides nothing from prying eyes and pitiful glances. They see everything that torments her soul as though it's splayed out like a book, open for all to read.

He feels helpless. Has had a ridiculous amount of "pep talks" from his grandparents, from Emma, from nearly all the townspeople telling him to have hope, that time heals all wounds, she will get better, this will all get better. But they are just pretty words that do nothing to help. And for what it's worth, he misses Robin too. More than he has really let on. He had a father figure again. Someone to teach him how to become a true, honest and courageous man. And he had Roland, a baby brother to help guide through life and all its turmoils. He'd been looking forward to it in all honesty. Having a family. Waking up to the sound of his mother giggling when Robin would wrap his arms around her at the stove, kiss her gently and sway her back and forth.

And yeah at the time he thought it was gross, seeing his parents kiss, it was downright revolting, and he'd give anything right now to interrupt them again. To see the blush flare on his mother's cheeks and the shy smile Robin would give before bestowing a last affection to her. Their house used to be a happy place. Where he and Roland would run around wildly, chasing monsters till their breath ran dry, and Robin gave up and surrendered. He misses those moments. And for someone who is supposed to have the heart of the truest believer, he is finding it hard to have faith in anything anymore, happy endings least of all.

She's says she is fine. He knows better. Even now with the hug she squeezes him into and the small smile that graces her lips, it's her eyes that are the dead giveaway. Vacant. They've lost their sparkle she once had. His heart hangs heavy at the thought he can't even bring her all the happiness she needs anymore. Once upon a time all she said she needed was him. But he's grown up now, and he knows that while his mother loves him with all her heart, it's just different now. For a smidge of time she had an actual happy ending, love from more than just her son to fill her soul with, and the hole that's been left in her heart is gaping in Robin and Roland's absence.

They eat a quiet dinner together, either saying much though Regina tries to ask him about his day at school, how Violet is, and all the other small things in his life that don't really seem like they matter that much right now. He answers as best as he can, but his mind is elsewhere. Dinner is over rather soon, and Henry watches his mom walk tiredly up the stairs and into her room for the night.

He tosses and turns for what feels like hours. Staring blankly out into the distant twinkling stars. Everything is just quiet. Quiet enough that he hears her door crack open, the soft padding of her feet against the wooden floor and down the stairs. Furrowing his brow, his blanket is tossed off and he cracks his door open, spying out into the foyer over the banister to see his mom tugging on her boots and black coat. He sits quietly against the railings, resting his head against the wall as she silently sighs, grabs her keys and heads off into the blackness of the winter night. Its freezing tonight. And that doesn't escape him. Wherever she is going, surely just a jacket isn't going to keep her warm.

He tugs on his own boots, coat, mittens, a hat and a checkered scarf. And the moment before he is about to walk out the door, he spies the burgundy scarf hanging on the coat hanger. Its' Robin's. Sighing, he grabs it, tucks it under his arm and heads out the door and follows the snowy footsteps that wind towards the cemetery.

It doesn't take him long to find her. The light of the moon shining against her back and his name emblazoned on the granite headstone. She's just sitting there, knees tucked into her chest, arms curled around her legs, and chin resting on a free hand, the other tracing the lines of the stone etched emblem that matched his tattoo. For a moment he leans against a hidden tree, heart clenches tighter with every sniff he hears echo from her.

When Robin had left for New York, he thought that was the saddest his mother had ever been, and there was still a fraction of hope left in her heart that maybe he'd come home. There was a chance and that had kept her going. But this. There is no reunion that is going to happen this time. No tears of happiness, no bodies molding into one another in a tight embrace, no chance at another kiss, or the possibility to hear them say they love each other.

Wiping away a fallen tear, he sighs and the snow crunches beneath his boots as he makes his way over to her. Robin's lessons at being sneaky must have paid off for she doesn't even notice him walking up behind her. But his mother must know he's here. She barely flinches as he settles in the snow beside her, just squeezes his hand tight as it laces into her own. Her cheeks are tear stained, eyes red rimmed, as she lets out a hard exhale and leans into him.

"I miss him too mom."

She sniffs, bites down on her trembling lower lip and nods silently. He can feel the pain radiating off of her. As hard as she tries to not break down, it seems that tonight the once unbreakable walls of Regina Mills have finally crumbled, under the stars, sitting in the snow with her son, and in front of the resting place of her soulmate. The choked sob has Henry's eyes peeling away from Robin's name and to her face. Brow furrowed, eyes clenched shut though the tears run freely down, shaky jaw she desperate bites back on. If he didn't know better he'd think she was in physical pain, that there was some bleeding wound seeping from her chest.

Saying nothing, Henry shifts, wraps an arm around her small shoulders and pulls her into his chest, rocking his mother back and forth as she cries inconsolably into the lapel of his coat. Turning to rest his cheek on her hair, he hides his own tears from her. Let's them trail down his face and spill onto the hem of her coat. Her breath hitches and cracks, lungs rattling with every intake of air as she clutches tighter onto her son.

"It's okay mom." His hand cards through her hair, tucks her beneath his chin, "It's okay, I'm here."

"I'm sor-sorr-y." She chokes out, curling herself into him. "I m-miss h-him. So much."

"I know."

For a long while, Henry just sits on the frozen ground, hugging his mother as the snow falls around them. He doesn't know what to do. What will help soothe the ache in his mom. Knowing nothing really will. So he just rocks them back and forth, a hand rubbing up and down her arm, his nose nuzzled into her hair.

Regina shifts, sits up straight and wipes her tears into her sleeve, and gives Henry one of the saddest more pitiful glances he's ever seen cross her features. She's ashamed. Feels guilty for breaking down in front of him. A ridiculous notion. She's only human. A person who's lost the love of her life. It's only natural to cry.

"Sorry." She hushes out quietly, squeezes his hand and moves out of his arms. Henry frowns, and reaches back to tip her lowered chin up to his eyes, much like she used to do to him as a boy. They are welled up and about to burst as he finds her gaze. "I know it's hard mom, but don't hide from me."

She smiles, a meek and dejected thing, "I shouldn't be unloading on you though. I'm your mother."

"So?"

Her brow creases, head tipping questioningly to the side as she scans his face. Henry grabs both her hands, folding Robin's scarf into her lap, "Just because you're my mom doesn't mean I can't be here for you. You lost him. I lost him. We are in this together. Parent-child pretenses aside, I am here for you. So if you need to cry, then do it."

She sniffs, swallows heavy.

"It's just me mom, and I love you. Snotty nose and all." He grins, and wipes away a fallen tear. He hears her chuckle wetly as he leans his head into rest on her shoulder, her hand running through his hair as she sighs heavily. "I will never know what I did to deserve you."

"I am pretty great." He bubbles back, tilting up to see her eyes shining down at him.

"Yeah, you are. Even if you snuck out of the house in the middle of the night."

"Hey, I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to catch a cold. We both know how grumpy you get when you're sick."

Regina scoffs, but cradles Henry tighter, leaning her cheek against the crown of his head as her eyes move to find Robin's name again. Nothing is going to make this ache go away. She already knows it from Daniel's death and that was just a split second of teenage puppy love. Robin was...he was every ray of sun shining bright and warm on the darkest of days. The first time that she honestly felt like maybe there was a chance she could actually have a happy ending, that love was a real tangible possibility for her.

Beneath her, Henry shivers, and the mother in her kicks back into gear. "Come on, you're freezing and have school in the morning."

"You sure?"

She smiles, presses a kiss to his temple, "Yeah, let's go."

They stand, and her fingers leave Henry's hand as she turns back to Robin, his scarf between her thumbs as she steps shakily forward and lays it on his headstone.

"In case you're cold."

She waits for him to answer. For a beating moment hopes to the high God's that his voice might actually whisper into her ears. But all that she's met with is silence, as always, since the day he died, it's just quiet. "I love you. More than you could ever know." Her eyes burn against another onslaught of tears.

"I just wish…" Her breath expels shakily, and she bites down on her lower lip, wrapping her arms about her waist. She runs a free hand along the edge of the stone, imagining the stubble of his beard, the softness of his lips, the callouses on his hands. "Come back to me."

It's just silence again and Regina's heart rips open a little more, hanging together by only a single thread that is her son. He is all she has left. Turning back to him, Regina wipes away her tears and lands an arm around his shoulders, his own wrapping around her waist as they walk off together back home, not seeing the light green shimmer that illuminates around a single headstone.

Tinkerbell said Pixie Dust Never Lies. And the fairy believes that to the bottom of her soul. Has given up the last remnant of her magic, begged and pleaded with the other fairies to give everything the could, for them all to finally help the one person who needs it most. It hadn't come without a battle, but Tinkerbell is stubborn, Regina would know that, and she should know that her fairy friend would never give up on her happy ending.

Regina walks into her room, shrugs off her coat, pulls on a pair of silk pajamas and crawls underneath the covers, feeling the absence of his body behind her as she always does. Blowing out a last heartbroken breath she curls his pillow into her nose, inhales heavy and lets her eyes drift close.

It's a soft knock that pulls her back into the land of the living. Confused and more than irritated to be interrupted, she climbs out of the warmth of her bed, slings a robe about her shoulders and walks down the stairs, ready to give whoever is on the other side a piece of her mind for waking her at such an ungodly hour. She swings the door open and everything shatters about her.

It's just blue eyes and a burgundy scarf.

That's it. It's all her mind can process.

"Hi."

Her heart thunders at the sound of his voice. This has to be a dream. It's not real. It's not possible for this to be real. For the feeling of his hands wrapping around her own to be real. The warmth of his breath against her cheeks can't be real. The weight of his body, none of it, it's a dream. She's dreaming. She has to be.

His arms around around her within a second, lips pressed against her forehead, the smell of pine and mint blooming about her. Her eyes clench shut, begging silently to let this dream last. She feels him sag into her, holding her tight to his chest.

It's a steady beat beneath her palm. A constant strong pulse patting against her hand. She's held enough hearts in her hand to know the feeling of life compared to death. And the hard thrumming beat, it's real.

"You came back?"

"I'm here."

"Promise?"

"I'm home, Regina. I promise."


	58. Sharing is Caring

There are very few things that Regina Mill's truly covets in her life. That honest to god don't you dare touch it or I shall incinerate your hand type of refusal for others to take. One would be her son. Anyone who even thinks about taking him from her will suffer without a hint of remorse. Roland is a very close second and she loathes the day some bushy doe eyed girl falls in love with his dimples, the girl won't stand a chance. She supposes Snow is somewhere in that weird squishy spot in her heart, annoying as the woman can be, deep down Regina will protect her till her dying day.

Robin is another story. She loves him. Everything damn thing about him too. Even the incessant knowing look he gives her when he knows that she knows that he knows something is bothering her and she doesn't want to talk about it. She hates that look. Loves it. But hates it all the same. With his dumbly adorable smug grin and soft soothing touches that have her purring like some domestic cat in his lap.

Yes there are very few things that Regina will not allow to happen, harm to her family, her clothes being stolen from her closet, and perhaps the one thing that has her in a complete conundrum over what to do... her pillow. Which at present time is being commandeered by the thief himself. Snoring away, face stuffed into its feather gelled softness, not a care in the world as a small trickle of drool creeps down and puddles on the satin case.

She loves him. But it's the fourth time he's sneaked away to bed before she has, damn well knowing he is going to steal from her, and off he goes to dreamland and there isn't a thing she can do about it. He's a million pounds asleep. A deadweight she's tried to shove and move about in a feeble attempt to corral her treasure back. And come every morning, while she is stiff necked and grouchy that the devil himself ready to ignite Robin in fire, he turns over, gives her that preposterously adorable sleep riddled smile and the fireball ready in waiting beneath her skin extinguishes itself.

The whimper that escapes her as she walks into their room, only to see his head cradled softly by her pillow, is pathetic. It's just a pillow. It shouldn't be this big of a deal. But she is so damn tired tonight, and all she wants is to snuggle into her side of the bed and actually sleep. Which isn't going to happen on the paper thick pillow Robin said was comfortable the day they bought them. He even cheekily chided her for needed the more expensive luxurious one. Bloody hypocrite.

Sighing, Regina changes into a silk set and slides underneath the covers, turns and stares daggers at the snores coming from the other side. How he doesn't wake with the loathing glare she is sending him is beyond her. And if it's possible she swears as she desperately tries to adjust the limp pillow underneath her into something remotely comfortable, Robin lets out a happy blissful puff of air and tucks himself in tighter, his fingers gripping the edges of her pillow as he sinks.

It's just a pillow. He deserves to get a good night's sleep after all the hectic things he has to deal with over the past little while. It's not like she hasn't also been battling every day alongside him though. They were hand in hand, or magic and arrow earlier today when the hell demons came into town. She is tired too. Really really tired. And the sound of Robin's heavy dull breathing beside her isn't making the irritation that he once again thieved from her any better.

Scowling, she flips onto her side, huffing as she tugs the blankets hard away from him and around her shoulders. If he gets the pillow, then she gets the blankets. Outlaw is used to sleeping outside anyway, the chilly winter air shouldn't be a bother. She flips, and flops, twists and cracks her joints trying to find someway to get comfy, but this fucking pillow is going to be the death of her. It's so thin she mine as well sleep on the mattress without it.

A protection spell, she grins, that's her answer. She can cast a spell around her pillow so that she be the only one allowed to rest upon it. It's a foolproof plan. Smiling to her personal victory awaiting tomorrow, she dips into the touch of Robin's hand on her hip, even allows him to sleep drunkenly tug her back into his chest, mumbling something about her stealing all the covers. She says nothing, just wriggles a bit further back, stuff the sandpaper pillow into something resembling a cushion and drifts off to sleep.

But tomorrow all bets are off and the pillow is only hers.

And it's a good day, all things Hades aside, as she and Robin finally walk through the front door of the mansion, his daughter safely in tow, the villain of the month vanquished, and her family still in tact. All she can think about, besides how grateful she is that there wasn't anymore permanent damage done today, is how exhausted she is, and how there is a beautiful, protected, satin soft pillow awaiting her head to fall upon. It's going to be a damn good sleep tonight.

So it's to her horrified astonishment that after she has kissed both Roland, Henry and Ellie goodnight, all tucked in tight, secure and most importantly home, her pillow isn't exactly vacant. Which is impossible because she put the protection spell on it. Anyone who dared move it should have been lovingly zapped with a minor sting. But there he is. Naked from the torso up, feet crossed over one another and head dipped delightfully into her pillow, a half woken smile and barely extended hand to her in request she come join him.

The frown that forms on her brow is deep. Hard enough she swears the muscles below may cramp as she sits down beside him, eyes trailing begrudgingly between his sandy brown hair and the dark grey satin cover.

"What's wrong?"

His blue eyes creep open when he finally has realized that she hasn't settled beside him just yet.

She scowls harder.

"Regina? Love? Tell me."

It's stupid and she shouldn't be so wrapped up in irritation about this, but it's  _her_  pillow. Clearly Robin clue's in. Chuckles and presses a kiss to her cheek as he sits up and helps strip her of her clothing.

"That's my pillow." She whines, giving him her best pouty miserable eyes.

He grins, licks his lips in a way that have her brain fuzzing out for a moment. "Haven't you heard sharing is caring?"

Regina huffs, but lets him drag her down into bed. "I put a protection spell on it."

"What?"

"You shouldn't have been able to steal it again."

"You knew I was a thief when you met me."

She grimaces, shakes her head because he is right, dumb stupid soulmate she adores with every fiber in her being. Maybe she didn't cast the spell correctly? Tomorrow, she will try again tomorrow. "Sleep my love." He shuffles so his big fat head moves a touch and she can lay on her pillow beside him. It's not the comfort she was anticipating earlier today, his beard scratches against her forehead, his breath is hot on her skin, but it's...nice, better than nothing, and sleeping in his arms isn't exactly the worst thing in the world.

While his hands trail up and down her back, Regina finds herself tucking in tighter to his chest, half resting on him, half on her pillow, and well, it's doing the trick she supposes as sleep begins to drag her away. The last thought on her mind floating back to the spell that clearly didn't work. It should have. What could possibly break a magical spell?

His heart thumps steady under her ear as she shifts more on to him, a solid rhythmic beat that once more has her brow creasing as she tilts herself up to see his eyes already closed, mouth slightly agape and soft snores puffing out. It's a good thing she loves him…

"Oh my god. You've got to be kidding me." She pouts and bounces her head into his chest with a shake of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Robin mumbles from his sleep, and he is so tired, and the least she can do is let him actually get some sleep. She kisses him and nuzzles back down into his neck, rolling her eyes as a smile creeps up her lips. They are going to have to buy another pillow because apparently,  _True Love's kiss can break any spell._

She just didn't think it would pertain to something so trivial.


	59. Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ Advent 2017

Paper - OQ Christmas Advent 2017

She's read it over a hundred times, knows every single word, can even see his dimpled grin biting down on a inked quill as he marked the soft curled paper with the secrets in his heart. It's been the one thing she goes to know when the world is cratering in around her, a dark and lonely hug that embraces her tighter each day.

A silly little rhyming poem he'd written she doesn't know when, but her fingertips have roamed every stroke of ink every day since she found it, and somehow it makes her feel like he's with her again.

_My Dearest Regina,_

_There are a few things I want you to know_

_It's the way you've made my heart glow._

 

_For a long time I was nothing but a lonely thief_

_Searching for something through my grief._

 

_We've both lost a love far too young_

_A wound so deep it bled and stung._

 

_But then one day amongst my despair_

_You were suddenly there, a silent answered prayer._

 

_To be honest, we both know it wasn't love at first sight_

_At times it felt like all we did was fight._

 

_You saved my son, without a second thought_

_And my heart began to unravel from its concrete hardened knot_

 

_Steady as the days did pass_

_Stories of the Evil Queen, I felt my doubt begin to shatter like glass_

 

_This once terrifying woman I began to understand_

_Was sad and soft, even with every reprimand._

 

_I saw the pain that lingered beneath the mask_

_Soothing your torn soul, it became my only task._

 

_Slowly and with much tedious persistence_

_The walls around you began to fall with little resistance._

 

_A memory curse stole our first kiss_

_And the moment I saw you again, I knew something was amiss_

 

_Bold and Audacious, the only words I could find_

_That smile you bit back still resonates in my mind_

 

_I thought of kissing you amongst the whiskey and rye_

_But you ran and I was left wondering why_

 

_I didn't understand what I had done to scare you so_

_Of our destined life I'd yet to know_

 

_You trusted your heart to a common thief like me_

_The bright light beneath the darkness I could see_

 

_I let you down, and thought I lost you in the process_

_But you walked into my camp and kissed me nonetheless_

 

_The feeling of your lips on mine, I'm not sure I can explain_

_Though as my soulmate, I hope you know it all the same_

 

_Hand in hand, I vowed I'd return it to it's rightful place_

_And you wrapped your arms around me in the most perfect embrace_

 

_Since that night in your office by the fire_

_My heart knew of loving you, I'd never tire_

 

_Strong, resilient, stunning, a mother fierce and true_

_My admiration for you only grew_

 

_I almost said it, whispered it into your ear_

_Something I'd been dying to have you hear_

 

_But life isn't always easy nor kind_

_And I was left with a choice which rendered me blind_

 

_I know I made mistakes and treated you unfair_

_Until the moment I realized being without you I could no longer bear_

 

_I begged and promised that I would be a better man_

_To never again make you feel like you were less than_

 

_I pleaded for you to see that you'd always been my first choice_

_How desperately I needed you, I simply had to voice_

 

_To the gods above I will forever be in their debt_

_For you forgave and saw that where my heart lay was truly set_

 

_I said I chose you, that day by the lake_

_And I meant every word, your heart I'd never again break_

 

_But circumstance gave me an impossible decision_

_At the townline, my soul was ripped from my chest with brutal precision_

 

_I did the one thing I promised I'd never do_

_I will never be able to apologize enough for what I put you through_

 

_And yet after everything you came back to be my savior_

_Forgave me, even as I felt like a failure_

 

_You kissed me and promised it would be alright_

_We just had to hold onto each other tight_

 

_Through portals and realms we've gone together_

_Even when hope seemed lost, I knew any storm we could weather_

 

_I was so proud seeing you on those Camelot stairs_

_A vision so stunning, no one else even compares_

 

_I remember thinking as we danced and spun about_

_I was in love with you and there was not a shred of doubt_

 

_I'm sorry I scared you stepping in front of that knife_

_But sacrificing my life for yours, I'd never think twice_

 

_I swear to you now, as I sit here writing_

_That to protect you, I will never stop fighting_

 

_I imagine our future, together old and grey_

_My love for you, stronger each day_

 

_Perhaps we will have more children, a house amongst the trees_

_It matters not to me, but wherever you go, take me please_

 

_I promise when the time comes for this life to end_

_This love between us, for all eternity it will transcend._

 

_And at the end, I'll think back to our start_

_Forever grateful you let a thief steal your heart_

 

_I love you Regina Mills, my one and only soulmate_

_To be the one to call you mine, it's a wonderful fate._

 

_Yours forever and always,_

_Robin._

He'd left it tucked away in a box in her closet. A secret gift she hadn't found until after. And for as heart melting the words were on paper, all she did was cry til there were no tears left to spill. A year she's been without him. It seems to span a decade thought it's only been three hundred and twelve days.

It seems to sting a little more with the tide of holiday around the corner. Seeing those around her arm in arm, blushing under mistletoe, oblivious to their surroundings. It brings out love in people, Christmas. Makes it completely okay to be over the top affectionate and cheery to everyone and anyone. But when you have no one to share those moments with, well, it becomes much harder to find the joy in sparkling lights and late night mugs of spiked eggnog.

Being alone with only her thoughts and his poem, a sudden compulsion to give him something back, to tell him everything she hadn't gotten the chance too became overwhelming. So she turned over the parchment with his words, and wrote him back, knowing he'd never get the opportunity to read it, but all the same, she had to do it.

_Dear Robin,_

_I loved the sound of your voice_

_Soothing the demons inside me without a choice._

_I loved how you saw the light within_

_The way you'd let my hair down with a grin._

 

_I loved that you never backed down_

_With every sharp remark thrown your way when I wore that unwanted crown._

_I loved that even when I was scared_

_You were the only one who dared._

 

_I loved feeling your hands caress_

_The way you looked at me in that dress._

_I loved how our hands entwined_

_That spark I never thought I'd find._

 

_I loved how your heart was so pure_

_How you promised that anything we would endure._

_I loved laying beside you at night_

_At the end of the day when everything finally felt right._

 

_I loved to hear your every sigh_

_My most favorite, that twinkle in your eye._

_I loved how your faith in me never did waver_

_And in the end, you were my heart's saviour._

 

_I loved the nights in my office by the fire_

_The need to kiss you again and again, completely dire._

_I loved the feeling of your lips on mine_

_I felt it that night, our souls align._

 

_I loved to bask myself in everything that is you_

_And feel your heart, beating so true._

_I loved the mornings when your arms wrapped around me tighter_

_Somehow you made me feel so much lighter._

 

_I loved that day you said you chose me_

_A happily ever after, I could finally see._

_I loved watching you be a father to our boys_

_All the laughter, a beautiful sweet noise._

 

_I loved the ways you'd manage to sneak in a kiss_

_That feeling, it was my heart's true bliss._

_I loved the silly things you'd say just to see me smile_

_Calming my nerves when I was feeling hostile._

 

_I loved the way you always had hope_

_Even in the worst time you taught me how to cope._

 

_But now you're gone_

_Not beside me with the rising dawn._

_I miss you more than you'll ever know_

_To those around me, this pain inside I dare not show._

 

_Everyday I'll put on a brave face_

_But this hole inside me, it's taking up too much space._

_I don't want to give in_

_I am trying to not let this loneliness win._

 

_But how do I live a life without you_

_Wishing you were beside me with everything I do._

_I pray to the heavens above_

_That one day we'll be together again my love._

 

_We never said it, but I hope you knew_

_I have always loved you._

 

_Yours forever and always,_

_Regina._

 

She lays the rolled piece of scripture down beside his headstone, presses a lonely kiss to the frozen granite, whispers that she loves him once more and walks away, wiping a single tear fallen onto her cheek.

She misses him.

And silently in the middle of the night for the past year, she's asked for him to come back to her. Promising that if just this one time a miracle could happen, she'd never ask for anything ever again.

But Santa Claus and Christmas miracles are for children who are still too naive and filled with wonder. It's not for the broken hearted, ravaged souls that walk the earth knowing damn well that life isn't filled with answered prayers, but silence in the darkest of times.

She expects nothing to come of her tearful pleading, she knows better than too believe in that sort of magic.

The papers rustle in the chilled wind, snow flakes falling, dampening it's parchment edges till the ink begins to bleed from one word to the next.

What she failed to realize when writing the words on the same piece of paper as her soulmate did, was the small detail he'd left out about how he came to acquire it. Not that it looks like anything but parchment, not to the unknowing eye at least. Even Robin himself did not know the speck of magic the simple piece of paper held, nor the ink he was given as a gift alongside it.

He'd smiled, thanked the man and walked out of his shop without a second thought and headed straight to  _their_  log hidden within the forest, where he spent the next hour sitting in the sun thinking about everything he wanted to tell her.

If he'd only known what magic words could truly possess or the power of true love and a touch of help from a completely unprecedented person. The Dark One knew what it was like to lose love, over and over again until it ate away at a person's sanity. And for all the fear and terror Rumplestiltskin once reigned with, somewhere deep in his heart, beneath all the evil was a softness he'd never admit too.

He took Regina down into the darkness with him, spun his web around her purity and scorned her heart till it turned as black as his. He doesn't regret it. Not really anyway. He'd never tell Regina either, but a part of him will always want to protect her. And not from demons and monsters, but from the pain of loss.

It's why he is here, watching her walk away from the cemetery, shoulders hunched and burgundy scarf billowing in the air. Picking up the piece of parchment, he dusts it off, doesn't read it for he already knows what is inside, but tucks it into his coat pocket.

He is no childhood caricature who brings presents down a chimney, but perhaps this one time, he can bring someone a miracle. And now, he finally has the last ingredient he needs to make it come true.

What can he say, he is rather fond of a good Christmas love story after all.

_Fin._


	60. Getting To Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark OQ Week #1

 

He understands the soulmate thing more and more every day with her. How two people are connected together in a way others aren't. It's different from True Love, not entirely, but there are slight nuances that separate the two he's becoming more aware. Case and point, he's never been able to breathe quite as freely as he does when she is around. Every inhale seems a bit cleaner, fuller, crisper when he sees her smile up at him for no particular reason and every exhale releases something heavy and full of relief as her fingers creep to lace into his own.

For so long he's been alone, and the world seemed so cruel. But now, it's like he is seeing everything for the first time all over again. It's not all bright blue skies and prancing ponies, Regina is sharp, a bit hardened and sometimes downright aggravating, but he knows he is not much better. They both carry the weight of a darker past, one that had stripped the carefree way of living so many others seem to walk with effortlessly. He doesn't really mind in all honesty, that she has scars like he does, prefers it that way. It makes him feel less damaged knowing she isn't some perfect porcelain doll.

He's grateful for it. That she can look and see the scars emblazoned on his skin and not look utterly repulsed by them. In fact more than once, she'd let him see a few of her own. A long thick jagged line that runs from the outside of her hip down to just above her knee from a riding accident with her stable boy. Three fine white lines underneath her left shoulder blade, from Rumplestiltskin when she'd been less enthused about learning dark magic in the beginning.

A couple that line her arms, marks she'd inflicted herself. Those had hit Robin a little closer to home, though he hadn't yet divulged that part of his life to her yet.

But for everything he has yet to share, she is like this cool soothing palm even when he's not looking. When the pain cuts him deep, and he can't find any sleep in the quietest of nights, he finds himself just turning over and looking at her, his own personal remedy. Sometimes it makes him feel a bit like a fool, needing her in this silent way. Slowly he trails a hand up her arm, revelling in the softness of her skin, the warmth that radiates from her as she breathes effortlessly in her sleep. He loves her. Hasn't told her yet, but perhaps soon. He has to suppress a smile at the light sigh she lets out, the way she slowly snuggles closer into him and hums happily. She claims she doesn't like to cuddle, but it's like clockwork, every single night he waits for it, the slight shift in her thigh that drapes in between his own, fingers that creep till they find a resting place on his chest above his heart.

He sweeps back a long curl of hair from her eyes, smirking at the slight scrunch in her nose as the end of the lock brushes against her lips. Lips he'd much like to kiss right now. But he shouldn't, he should let her sleep. But she is so damn kissable. What's one small peck going to hurt? Leaning in as quietly as he can, his lips press to her own, grinning at the small smile he feels creeping into her cheeks as she hums and leans a in a fraction more. He lets her go, bumping her nose with his own. He breathes a soft exhale as her eyes flutter open.

"Everything okay?" Her voice sleep addled as she combs a hand through his hair, shifting enough to rest her head on his chest. Robin laces her fingers within in own, nodding into the crown of her head. He loves this. Laying side by side with her, feeling her heartbeat thump steadily against his skin. It's that balm again that seeps into him, calming the internal nerves that ricochet about.

He's about to let his eyes sink closed when he feels her stiffen, fingers clenching around his hand. "Robin." Her hand pats his chest as she sits up, eyes wide. It catches him off guard. This sudden fear her voice is laced with as she scoots further away from him, eyes glued to something just off to the side of him. "Robin." She swallows heavily. "Robin get it." Her finger points rather shakily in an absent direction.

Cocking an eyebrow, he turns, searching the tent for whatever has his love frozen to the spot. The second he spots it, a chuckle bubbles in his chest. Tilting his chin back, he lets the laugh escape at the absolute horror on her face. "You can't be serious." He muses teasingly, landing a hand on her thigh. She jolts at the contact, throws his hand off, and pushes herself back even further.

"You can either get it, or I can light this entire tent on fire. Your choice."

Robin smirks through another chuckle, running a hand over his face as he rolls his eyes at the dramatic fireball that blooms into her hand.

"Regina."

"No." She cuts him off. "Don't you Regina me."

"It's a spider Regina."

"Exactly! Now kill it!" She squirms as the eight legged bug trickles its way up the blanket on Robin's legs. How he is so unphased by it, she has no idea, but if he doesn't do something about the grotesque little creature she will make good on her promise and set their tent ablaze.

"You, the once great and terrible Evil Queen, is genuinely terrified of a spider?" He pokes at her, sending his fingers skirting up her arm. She swats him off with a deadly glare, and perhaps he should just help her out. "Oh come on Regina. Don't be ridiculous. It's a bug. It can't hurt you." The second the tears hit her eyes when the spider creeps it's way even closer to her, Robin's heart doubles down and sinks. Clearly this is an actual fear of hers. He feels like a right old git as he see's her bite down on her shaky lower lip, desperate to not show any sign of vulnerability, but it's clear as day on her face.

He brings one of his boots down with a hard smack, effectively smushing the spider on impact, rendering it, well dead and incapable of scaring Regina any further. The sigh she lets go is palpable as Robin swipes the deceased bug outside of the tent, zipping it up tight, a barrier for other creepy crawlies of the outside world. He turns, shakes his head sadly at the way she runs her hands through her hair and blinks back the tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He nudges into her, presses a soft kiss to her cheek before settling himself down and tugging her into him. She certainly is still tense, he can feel it in the taut pull of her muscles, the clenching and unclenching of her fist on his chest. "Are you alright?"

She nods, but it's half hearted. He lets his fingers run through her hair, scratching gently at the base of her neck till he feels her release a heavy breath. For a long moment it's nothing but silent in the tent they now call home. "When I was younger, my mother knew how terrified I was of them. So it became a form of discipline she'd use." Her voice quiet in the confession that has Robin's heart clenching tight in his chest. Regina doesn't speak much about her mother, but what she does, he's come to learn that Cora Mills wasn't exactly top slot for the Mother of the Year award. "There were times, I would have to sit in a room full of them, knowing damn well they were just a figment of her magic, but still, I could feel them crawling all over me." She shudders and tightens her arm around his torso.

Robin chews his lip, frowning at nothing, and keeps his fingers smoothing through her hair, knowing that it helps calm her down. As much as she is his remedy, he hopes to the high heavens that he is hers. And perhaps this is what the soulmate thing is actually about, just being there as the wall that fights away the darkness when the world becomes unfathomably cruel. He can't take the pain of her past away, but he will make damn certain that there is none in her future.

He sighs, kisses her forehead as he feels her sink back into a steady breathing pattern, sleep on the horizon once more.

"I'm afraid of mice." He grimaces at the mere thought of the squeaky hairy vermin, and he feels Regina giggle into his chest as she tips her head up to rest her chin on his chest, eyes all a sparkle as he prefers them to be.

"Mice?" She bites back her smile.

He shrugs, "Since I was a boy."

"They can't hurt you. You realize that right?"

"Yes well, regardless, they are disgusting, far too quick to catch and kill, squeaking that high pitched horrid noise, they just, they shouldn't even be a thing."

Regina laughs, as her small grin pulls apart into that smile that has his heart stumble over itself like an adolescent schoolboy. Lifting herself up onto her forearms, her hair drapes around him, a curtain of chocolate that blocks everything out but her. Her smile doesn't fade when she kisses him fully on the mouth, nor does it dissipate as she returns back to her sleeping position, snuggled into his side.

"Not to worry my big strong handsome hero." She pats his chest teasingly, "I'll take care of all the mice for you."

"I appreciate that." He jostles her gently till they are eye to eye. "I'll kill all the spiders as payment."

"Even the little ones?"

Robin smiles, and rests his head against Regina's, quietly promising to her as her eyes flutter back shut, "Even the invisible ones."

THE END.


	61. Adapting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark OQ Week #2 - Adapting to the EF

 

They've been at Maleficent's castle for a month now, a request on Regina's part much to Robin's initial hesitation. It's one thing to be with Regina, but having a second  _roommate_  who breathes fire from her eyes if he so much as gives his brunette love a cocked eyebrow is sometimes like treading over already cracked egg shells. But if it makes Regina happier than she's been the past couple weeks then it will be worth the hot stares and stealy scaled third party.

It's working too. He's seen Regina laugh a little more, even when talking about her days as the Queen, something she doesn't do very often. But Maleficent knows of her past, was a large player in it from the very beginning and Robin is learning through quiet listening that the Dragon had truly been Regina's only friend during those days.

The only thing he absolutely abhors about living in a castle is the bed he and Regina sleep on. Whilst she sleeps like a baby swaddled in a cloud, Robin tosses and turns and rarely finds any rest. It's too damn soft. Squishing beneath him, zero support for his back and more often than not he relents himself to not getting any shut eye. It's taking it's toll though. The past week he's moved to sleep on the onyx concrete floor instead. Not the comfiest of spots, but it's better than feeling as though he's fighting a losing battle against a mattress of quicksand.

He waits every night till Regina is fast asleep before he moves. She likes to be touched as she drifts off. A hand in her hair, a palm that roams gently over her naked back, calming till she's gone to dreamland. That's when makes his escape from the bed. When her breath is low and deep, he shifts her arm off his chest, tucking it gently against a pillow instead and he clambers down to the floor with nothing but a sheet for warmth. He always wakes before her too, scooting himself back into bed as she turns over to reach for him sleepily, humming as he curls her into his arms and he waits for her to wake up.

But he is bloody tired from it. His back aches from the hard ground, less than from the mattress, but still, he wakes up every day feeling as though he's aged a good ten years. It's a stiffness he walks with, tries to hide it from her, but it's impossible sometimes. And he senses that she has catching on as she frowns at the way he cracks his neck and grimaces at the dull aching pain.

Regina muses with a cocked curious eyebrow at him, "You look like hell."

"Thank you?" He grunts back, half irritated she doesn't seem to want to play a doting girlfriend and perhaps offer a massage to the tight sore muscles that plague him. Swallowing down a thick gulp of coffee he hopes will shake off the fatigue in his head, he asks "What did you want to do today?"

Regina shrugs, glares at the way he arches his back uncomfortably, "Doesn't seem like you are up for much right now."

"My back is just sore, no need to fuss."

"I'm not the one who can barely sit up straight without looking like I've been stabbed."

He growls into his mug, huffing out indignantly at her teasing barb. Normally he's up for pretty much anything she can toss his way, but bloody hell, his spine feels as though it's twisted every wrong way, hips pulse with a heavy throb, a tingling of what he assumes is going to be a brutal headache is beginning to make itself known. Before he can say anything more, Maleficent makes her way into the dining hall, smiling a soft hello at Regina, and not much more than a half hearted nod in his direction. And he is not in the mood for the Dragon's poking and hot tongued questioning right now. He just wants to find a nice grassy hill he can get some shut eye on without interruption.

Standing with a hiss, he kisses Regina on the cheek, and bids both women goodbye with the excuse he is going to find a river to bathe in. Perhaps an ice bath is exactly what he needs. Maleficent doesn't say much but wave her hand absently at him, but Regina's brows crease together as she watches him leave, the stiffness beyond obvious as he shuffles out the door.

"What's got Prince Charming's panties in a knot?" Mal smirks, picking through a bundle of red grapes on her plate. Usually  _that_  name would have Regina giggling with an eye roll, but she's actually genuinely concerned for Robin. Which is a new thing all together for her. She's been so used to looking out for only herself, but now she has him and they are trying to find a way being together in this new realm. It hasn't been easy and if she is being completely honest, Robin has probably given up more than she has. Every scowl and demand she makes, he figures out a way to make happen even if he does it with a snarky retort about it.

Maybe he's getting restless living in the castle. For a man so accustomed to a forest life, perhaps the concrete walls are starting to feel a little too claustrophobic for him. She doesn't want to leave Maleficent or the soft bed that Regina's far too fond of, but something is definitely bothering Robin, and if they are going to make this work, make  _them_  work, it may be time for her to make a concession for his wellbeing and move back into the woods. Maybe she can just take the bed with her lest she have to go back to sleeping on a bed of hay… and then it dawns on her.

He's not sleeping. He  _wants_  the bed of hay.

Her heart sinks. She's woken up many times in the middle of the night to find him fast asleep on the concrete floor beside her instead of in the soft mattress and cloudlike pillows. Initially she figured he was just warm, he runs rather hot as it is, or that maybe she moved to much at night for him to find any rest. But this, being actually uncomfortable in the beautiful bed hadn't even crossed her mind.

"I can hear you thinking." Mal's voice smokes out and Regina sighs, "I just have to fix something."

"For Robin?"

Regina nods.

"How unlike you. Thinking about others before yourself."

"Yes well, I've changed."

"I've noticed."

Regina's heart skips a beat at the Dragon's knowing smile she doesn't even try to hide.

.

..

…

..

.

He's gone for most of the day, and it's not till after sundown that Regina finally hears the door to their bedchambers creak open. She's already in bed waiting for him. Pretending to be fast asleep but listening intently as he shucks off his shirt and pants and lifts the covers to crawl in behind her. She stills as he freezes half way through settling down and she bites her lip in anticipation of his reaction.

She can't see it, but she can feel the smile that blooms out through his warm breath against her neck as he lays down next to her. Robin sighs gratefully at the less giving squish to the bed, a hardness that caresses his back and comforts his head. His palm slides over to the bare expanse of her back, a silent pat on her bum as thanks.

"Will you sleep with me the whole night now?" Regina questions quietly as her eyes crack open to find his blissfully closed. She bites back a smile as Robin nods, turns his head and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I wouldn't dream of moving."

Regina snuggles into her pillow, letting her hand creep over and land onto his chest as sleep begins to take over. She likes sleeping next to him, feeling his warmth and body behind her, the steady thumping of his heart lulling her into dreamland.

Robin jostles till he is on his side, "Your side is still soft?" He frowns feeling the way half of the bed dips into a squishy dough where she lays.

"Well you didn't expect me to sleep on a bed of hay now did you?"

He smiles, shakes his head and tugs her quick and fast, through the startled squeal that escapes her at the tumbling motion till she is saddled nearly on top of him. Blinking open he laughs at the scowl etched onto her face at her new position. Robin shifts and tilts himself until Regina is settled lengthwise against his body, her thigh tucked between his own, her head on his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"I simply wish to hold you."

"I'm not sleeping on this grass stack."

"Just for a little while." He pecks the frown between her brows, "Just till I fall asleep, I promise. I've missed this."

Regina grunts at his sappiness, but relents because it's rather sweet though she won't tell him that and she settles down into his arms, hoping he will be sleeping within minutes.

And if she ends up staying there, on the bed of hay all night, well she can deal with a sore back in the morning. It's pretty comfy right where she is anyway, beside him, hay bed be damned.


	62. Burnt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQPROMPTPARTY DAY 2

**Burnt**

-Regina self harming and Robin noticing - #28

_Set in the Missing Year_

 

She looks vacant today, lost in thought though her body is present. He notices the hollowness in her eyes that stare at nothing, a tense rigidity in her shoulders that can’t be attributed to the Charmings or anyone else here badgering her about finding the Wicked Witch.

 

It’s been happening more and more often, this slight change in her; there is less bite to the harsh remarks she makes, the typical scowl leveled towards everyone gone slack, disconnected in a way he can’t quite put his thumb on, but it unsettles him nonetheless. Oddly more disconcerting is that no one but himself has seemed to notice or care just how detached the Queen has become. 

 

She sits in the chair to his right, breathing so shallowly he wonders if any air is actually reaching her lungs, hasn’t spoken a single word this entire meeting, just fidgets with the left sleeve of her steel blue velvet dress, relentlessly tugging down to her wrist. He tries to not stare, she doesn’t need that from him, but his eyes continually glance down to her thumb rubbing small circles on her forearm. Self soothing. Or perhaps she is just restless today. 

 

God knows he’d give pretty much anything to get out of this council meeting right now - as important as finding the Wicked Witch is - he finds these sessions gathered around a table rather dull. He just comes to see her in all honesty, hopes to catch her eyes, or by the God’s, if he is lucky enough, to see her smile. It’s a rare occasion these days, but still, a man can dream, and if listening to the Prince drone on for an hour gives Robin the time to etch her face into his mind, well, he’s not going to refuse the opportunity. 

 

Perhaps that is why he notices the fractional shift within her. He is well aware of the fact she knows he watches her, and where there was once hot tempered snapping threats that she’d blind him if he continued to gawk, it appears the simmering rage fueling her as all but been sapped out. There is no angry comments thrown his way anymore, hasn’t been for weeks if he thinks about it. Her eyes just meet his for a split second, silent but charged, and then she turns away. 

 

He’s even taken to finding her at night, settling down on the grass beneath a tree beside her. The don’t talk, at least not much. The quiet says enough he figures, he need not point out how soft her hands are linked within his own, nor the way his heart thumps harder when she leans into his shoulder. She knows how his affections for her grow everyday, won’t put the words to it, or dare let her own feelings for him be spelt out, though he feels them anyway. The warmth of her body curling into his side in the chill of night, how she sinks into his arms, letting her breath puff out soft and smoothly when his lips meet her temple, the slight smile in her eyes when he comes around a corner. 

 

Which makes the fact that she is recoiling further inward everyday all that much more concerning to Robin. She wasn’t there last night. He hasn’t seen her for three in a row now. While he won’t pry, he is not her keeper, not seeing her does make the ache of worry for her wellbeing grow. But he won’t push, will just sit here beside her, watching the trepidatious pattern of her fingers trail over and over again on her opposite arm. 

 

Blessed is the time when David finally decides they are all  _ allowed _ to be done for today - they will reconvene tomorrow for another round of discussion that in Robin’s opinion goes nowhere but in circles. Regardless, he is grateful to leave, bidding the table a warm afternoon as Regina stands to walk out ahead of him. It’s the fraction of a second between saying his goodbyes and hearing Regina’s tight pinched scream behind him. 

 

Spinning on the spot, he sees her and Snow, the later with hands cupped around her mouth, spilling out a plethora of confused apologies Regina clearly pays no mind to. Her jaw is clenched tight, tears rimming her lashes as she clutches her forearm to her chest. Robin frowns at that. Snow is far too timid to actually hurt the Queen in any way, but Regina is clearly in pain. He hears her muffle out that she is fine, startled but fine, and he knows it’s a blatant lie by the tremble in her voice. Before he can reach her, a swirl of purple smoke engulfs her body. 

 

“I swear I barely touched her,” Snow stammers out, but Robin is already walking past her, full stride ahead to Regina’s hiding spot. Something is wrong, and he has too much to lose to not do something about it. Or at least try. 

 

The garden is empty when he arrives, no sight of her, and he can feel a slight panic bubbling. She always comes here when things are getting out of control. No one but himself, his son, Granny and Regina know of this place - she told him as much. But her safe haven is vacant. It’s quite possible there are a handful of these invisible courtyards she can hide within that Robin has no idea about. He debates where to go, where would she go? Figuring that her chambers is probably a safe bet, he turns on his heel with a heavy sigh, only to be met by a pair of dark walnut eyes. 

 

Her name slides off his tongue in a whisper of relief, uncaring how potentially vulnerable it just made him sound in front of her. Her brow cocks as she questions why he is here, her arms crossed defensively around her stomach. Robin lets a breath go, takes a small step into her, hoping that she won’t run, and he never lets her gaze go, holds it stronger as his fingers brush against her arm. He can feel her tense, the tightness flaring into the corners of her eyes as she shuffles just out of his reach, breaking eye contact with a despondent shake of her head and a muted  _ I’m fine _ . 

 

He doesn’t move, tips his head to the side and waits, watching a myriad of emotion running across her face. He can sense her unease, the confusion and exhaustion that hugs her like a vice. She doesn’t believe that someone would care for her like he does, it’s a constant silent battle with them. And it unnerves her that he does this, will just wait quietly until she is ready to say something - and even if she decides against talking, he stays regardless. 

 

“Honestly, Snow just startled me.” She sighs, but he doesn’t miss the way her thumb for the briefest of moments swipes over her forearm. Nodding, though unconvinced, he smiles softly, reaching for her hand silently before turning back to settle on the grass underneath the oak tree. Regina follows without hesitation, lets Robin sit first, his back against the tree before he gestures for her to settle between his thighs, a notion that stills her for a half second, but his eyes are kind and unwavering. 

 

His hands help adjust her dress about their legs, brushing her hair over one shoulder so his lips can find the soft expanse of her skin. She relaxes into his touch, a steady hand on her stomach, grounding her with every breath that expands his chest behind her. 

 

The air is crisp, a slight chill that promises the coming of winter, a snowfall she dreads but can do nothing to stop. There is nothing she can do about this entire situation. She’s bone tired and falling deeper and deeper into a desolate spiral within her mind with the minutes that tick by. 

 

The lull of Robin’s heartbeat behind her is indescribably calming, drawing her in to lean further into his body, the warmth of his arms around her as her eyes flutter shut, her temple tipping to rest against his stubbled chin. 

 

It’s nice. Sitting like this with him.

 

He draws absent patterns on her abdomen, lets his fingers wander about her ribcage, dipping into the V of a hip joint before circling lazily back to rest under her breast. If nothing, it takes her mind off of everything for a few much needed minutes. 

 

It relieves him seeing the infinitesimal way her shoulders relax, the tightness in her lips slowly easing with each gently drawn in breath she takes. He knows these moments don’t come easy for her. He focuses on the feeling of her, the weight that presses back into him, a softness of velvet tucked tight around her curves - tries to not linger on the scent of her hair wisping around him -  warm, rich and honey-like - nor does he let his mind rest too long on the merlot colour of her parted lips, the long lashes that cast a shadow over high cheekbones. 

 

It almost feels tranquil being like this with her, putting the day on stand still for a few minutes of undisturbed quiet. 

 

His fingers brush along the back of her hand, threading through her fingers four times before circling around to trace the skin on her wrist, holding his breath steady as she freezes, tensing as her eyes fall down to watch his hand draw up her sleeve, unhurried and gentle. She waits to hear his admonished tone berating her, some sort of disgust or repugnance like her mother used to spit out, but mostly she waits for him to leave, to move from this embrace and walk away from her. 

 

What she doesn’t expect is to feel his thumb stroking along the border of the burn mark, the reverence in his touch has her heart thumping heavily with every swipe across her damaged skin. It’s angry - red and blistered from the self produced flame in her opposite hand two nights back. Beyond that though, it’s ugly - a marring on her body in hopes of feeling something other than the loss of her son. 

 

It didn’t work, at least not in the way she hoped. 

 

Robin dips to rest his chin in the junction of her neck, frowning down at the tight, swollen, weepy skin. It looks painful, perhaps a touch infected in her crease by her elbow. Surely she could have healed this, he can barely have a pinprick draw blood without her palm waving a smoke of magic over him, stitching a wound back together in simple seconds. A fact that has him anchoring her tighter to his chest. 

 

“Looks painful.” 

 

Regina shrugs, bites down on her lip, firmly avoiding his gaze, opting to stare out into the sinking sun instead. She wishes it brought more long lasting pain - something so excruciating she could do nothing but focus on it instead of Henry. Robin’s lips press against her neck, once, twice and a third time. It has a burning line of tears bubble in the backs of her eyes, a lump building in her throat as his fingers continue to trace the edges of the burnt skin. 

 

Nobody has ever cared for her. 

 

“Regina - you don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t wish to.” He kisses into her shoulder, “And I know that it’s not always easy to talk about the hard stuff, but this -” He places his palm over her burn, trying not to scowl at her wince, “- hurting yourself on purpose, it’s not the right way to deal with anything.” 

 

She blows a hot breath out, doing something rather foreign and shrinking back into him, tucking herself small and vulnerable into his body. His arms encompass around her shoulders, knees tucking up on the outsides of her drawn up knees. Swallowing thickly, she leans into him, a tear falling before she can blink it away. 

 

“I just -” Her voice trembles quietly, “I wanted to feel something, something other than the pain of missing my son.” Her tears fall without abandon now, dripping heavily onto her dress. “You must think I’m ridiculous.” She shifts away from him, from the proximity of his probing eyes and the feeling of his gentle hands. Robin watches her carefully as she extricates herself from his arms, the slight insecurity flashing across her face as her fingers fumble to pull down the sleeve of her dress. 

 

He reaches for her hand, stilling the movement, “You’re not ridiculous. You miss your son. Let me help you, Regina.” 

 

Her brow cinches, and he can see the walls starting to build, “Why would you?” 

 

Sighing, Robin gently tugs her back down beside him, letting her have enough space between his knees and her own. Threading his fingers back through hers, he turns her palm back over, sliding up the velvet to reveal the burn once more. “Because I think if you didn’t feel anything aside from missing Henry, you wouldn’t let me be here with you every night.”

 

“Perhaps I don’t and you just stay anyway.” She smirks, knowing damn well it’s a lie, but seeing the grin deepen in his dimples is reward enough. 

 

He smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek, “Well, I am adorably persistent.” 

 

She laughs lightly at that, though it’s cut short when his fingers graze across the burn. Perhaps she doesn’t have to do this alone, depressing as it is, maybe there is something else besides the pain. 

 

“It stings.” 

 

Robin hums, and Regina freezes when he leans down, a feather light kiss ghosted on the raw skin, his gaze flicking up to find hers watering once more at his gentle affection, at the safety he is giving her freely. “I’ll stay, for how ever long you need.” 

 

She can feel the honesty radiating out of him, the underlying notion to his comment that sets her heart alight. Leaning in before he can move, her lips capture his own, for the very first time, soft and gentle. “Stay,” she whispers against his mouth, his stubble brushing against her cheeks as he smiles into her kiss, beaming wider as they pull apart. 

 

“As you wish, M’lady.” 

 

The burn will heal. She’ll heal herself. Day by day. It won’t be easy, a part of her heart will always be missing without Henry, but she will heal, and he will help her. 

  
  
  


FIN.


	63. Similarities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina meeting DarkOQ’s baby (with them alive) (#12) + Regina being with young Robyn (#70) + “And for the first time in a long time, I could imagine a future where I was happy” (#172)

Similarities

She can’t stop her foot from bouncing, jilting her entire body in tiny vibrations over and over again, can’t stop her palms from perspiring however cold and clammy they may be, and it hasn’t mattered how many deep breath cycles she’s gone through. Every inhale shakes into her lungs, the exhale not faring much better. It’s only four in the afternoon and she’s gone through two glasses of merlot, hoping it would calm the skittering nerves, though she is fairly certain it’s probably done the opposite. 

It’s been a week of twisted knots and sleepless nights since she agreed to this meeting, one she should have seen coming, not that it would have quelled the panic all that much. Tipping her head back to rest, it thunks a little harder than anticipated, and she winces, shakes her head dismally at the fact that emotional self control appears to be a foreign concept right now. 

They were pregnant. Her other half was going to have a baby. 

That was four years ago.

It’s not that Regina meant time to slip by so quickly, but things had gotten intense in Storybrooke, her attention had been consumed by it. She wasn’t avoiding them purposefully, she was just busy…and perhaps quietly evading them and their happy new life, all pregnant and married - alive and together. Thinking about that night, hearing those words, the cautious, almost melancholic look she’d been given, it still makes her heart race faster than breath can catch up. 

They didn’t guilt her for stepping away afterwards, however unintentional or conscious the choice was. On some level Regina is nearly certain her other half understands why there hasn’t been a visit between them since. It would be like watching your own life play out in front of your eyes, but you’re the bystander not allowed to partake in the happily ever after meant for you. 

So they drifted apart, or away from each other, for some time. 

But today she is supposed to meet them, for the first time, with no place to run and hide, no excuse or sudden mayoral duty to flee to. She is going to stand here, in her house, and come face to face with two people she’s silently almost terrified of.

Twins. 

A boy and a girl who she knows nothing about, yet are like some sort of weird relatives too. Knowing of them sits heavily in her gut, seeing them will probably squeeze the breath out of her, yet in the same heart beat that panics her, there is a flicker of curiosity. What will they look like, who do they resemble, will she see him in them? It’s a thousand questions that swirl in her mind, and she stares out into the front yard, fiddling with the idea of downing another glass before they arrive. 

Being half sloshed before five probably isn’t the best first impression. Regina shrinks, head falling into her palm. They are just children. There is absolutely no reason for her to be acting this way. Except for the fact that she is about to see everything she was supposed to have. 

A tug on her sleeve has her attention drawn away from the window and down into a pair of bright blue, anxiously puzzled eyes. “Are they here yet?” She bounces on her tiptoes, straining to see out the curtain, dark blonde braid swooping over a shoulder. “What’s taking so long?” 

Regina grins, though her heart battles to pulse a steady rhythm. 

They’d asked to meet her, which floored Regina all together. But her split self had shrugged half heartedly, met Regina’s gaze with sad brimming eyes and a soft, rather tentative truth about how she was there too. The entire time of meeting Robin for the first time, to a first kiss, the first heartbreak, finding him again, the deception of a pregnancy, promising to be there with him through the whole thing - technically it wasn’t just Regina there, she’d been there as well. 

So regardless of the fact that she has her own family, a part of her still wondered and wanted to meet the little girl. What was Regina supposed to do other than nod quietly and agree to it?

There is a sweet curiosity embedded in her DNA just like her father, stubborn to the core just like he was, but soft and calming inside and out, something that in moments like this, as much as she hates to admit it, Regina thrives off the contact with Bee. Somehow, watching blonde curls fly about her yard, bright blue eyes questioning everything she comes into contact with, the deep set dimples framing a toothy grin, reminds her that he might be gone, but she has a part of him still everyday. 

For as much as she nearly begged her other half to not waste a minute, Regina has fallen absolutely besotted with Robin’s daughter, quietly vowing between she and her lost love that his daughter will grow up with nothing less than pure happiness enveloping her every second of every day. She is nearly six now, growing up right before Regina’s very eyes, and the same age as Roland was when their father died.

It’s a shame she can’t freeze time and just let Bee stay this small and blissfully unaware of darkness forever. Hoisting her niece up onto her hip, Regina feels her nose being budged side to side softly before Bee slumps down heavily into her chest and waits impatiently. It’s rather funny to Regina, or ironic she supposes - she is the adult, and yet the child is far more brave. 

Combing through her hair, she plucks out a few leaves twined into a messy braid. Someone has clearly been playing in the shrubs again, bug foraging more than likely. It’s impossible to count the times Regina has walked into her kitchen or Bee’s room and found a plethora of multi-legged, winged, spotted, hairy, slimy, little creatures inside jars. For the most part, it was oddly sweet, seeing Bee toss in handfuls of grass and crushed flowers into the glass containers, poking holes in the lids every so delicately, talking to the bugs as though they could understand. And if it made the little girl happy, Regina wasn’t about to squash it - though then the spiders came, and well, a line had to be drawn somewhere. 

“Does he look like him?” 

Regina cocks a brow, having been lost in thought for a moment. “Sorry, baby, what did you say?”

 

Bee turns in her lap, little knees pressing into Regina’s stomach, small dirt stained hands wiping a freckled nose, leaving behind a dark smudge, but her eyes swell in sudden uncertainty. “Does he look like my daddy?” 

Oh. Well, it’s a fair question she supposes. 

Bee has seen the storybook, but it paints Robin’s face in smudged out water colours. It doesn’t let her see the slope of his nose that matches her own, the square cut of his jaw, nor the softness of his dimpled smile. At one point Regina had dug out the only photo she has of the two of them, a day hidden in the hallways of Grannys, where second chances seemed far too easy to grab ahold of, and his lips had started to stain with the colour of her lipstick. Bee still has the photo, it’s set up beside her bed so she can say goodnight to him. 

And for what it’s worth, Regina has tried to make sure she knows all about her father. Does her best to make some sort of tether between them everyday. Robin deserves it, and so does this little girl, regardless of the sledgehammer it takes to Regina’s heart to talk about how they met, how they fell in love, and everything in between - she wants Bee to know it all, to feel like she has a connection to him. 

Slowly, as her fingers unthread the unruly braid, disposing of a few twigs she finds here and there, Regina smiles thoughtfully, “I suppose he does. Though your daddy had lighter hair, and a few more laugh lines.” 

“What’re laugh lines?” 

“Well, they are like memories of the best times on someones face. Sort of like a story of every time they laughed so hard it etched into them. Your daddy had lots of happy memories.”

Bee’s brow narrows as she chews her bottom pink lip, “Like these lines?” Her fingers prod against the outside corner of Regina’s eyes. 

No, Regina thinks somberly to herself, those definitely aren’t laugh lines that mar her face as age has begun to settle. Or perhaps not age but a lifetime of heartbreak. Surely as much as laughter permanently marks itself of the skin, so does pain and anguish. But it’s a little much to divulge to a five year old, so Regina humours her with a half hearted chuckle and swings Bee around so that she can reform her braid. 

“Do you think they will like me?” The question is so quiet, and far too vulnerable for Regina’s liking. Maybe instead of fretting over herself, she can focus all these nerves toward ensuring that Bee is happy the entire time, “They’d be silly not too.” She pecks a chubby cheek and spins as a knock on the door echoes around the house. They fall silent, bright blue eyes staring apprehensively up at Regina who swallows thickly, steels her nerves and does her best to smile encouragingly at her niece. 

“Ready?” 

Bee’s nod is barely perceptible, and instead of their initial plan of letting Bee open the door, Regina feels the little girl curl into her arms, tucking her head underneath Regina’s chin. She presses a hard kiss to the wild blonde braid that is already unfurling, and pads over towards the door, and this is it, there is no time to turn and run. 

Swinging the door open, she’s thankful that the first people she sees are, well, herself and Roland, both smiling brightly at her.

“Ro!” Bee nearly leaps from Regina’s arms at the sight of her brother, and thankfully he is quick enough to catch her, spinning around as he tosses her into the air, laughing at the squeal that pipes out of her when she lands safely back in his arms. “Hey, Bumble-Bee.” He nuzzles into her temple, and Regina’s heart sets alight at the sight.

They are a family, the two of them. Brother and sister, years apart and nearly inseparable at the best of times. They’d found him, about a year into being in the other realm, and it took a bit of explaining and patience but eventually Regina had Roland back in her arms once a month. He’s so big now, nearly fourteen and looks more and more like Robin to her everyday, save for the dark curls and chocolate brown eyes. It’s a lot in the way they are, she supposes, how Roland talks, his mannerisms, the soft warmth that pulses from every pore. He is certainly his father’s son, and to say she is thankful that he wanted to come back and see her after Robin died, well she will never be able to put words to it. 

Bee attached herself to Roland from the start, and he to her. And most days they spend together Regina finds herself praying that Robin can see them together, playing in the yard, reading books about him, sleeping soundly side by side still to this day, both on their backs, one arm slung across chest, and right legs stuck out at awkward angles, twins in their own right, little bodies that match their father’s sleeping habit. She loves that. That they have so much of him inside themselves. 

It makes life a bit easier, a bit less dark and dreary. 

With Bee in his arms, Roland steps in, presses a kiss to Regina’s cheek, followed by a hard hug and, “I’ve missed you!” 

She wraps her arms around them, both of Robin’s children, and breathes easily for a second. “Me too. It’s been forever.” 

“Well it’s been three weeks.” He chuckles, “But I get it, I actually wanted to ask you something, but it can wait till later.” Pink tinges his cheeks as he shrugs his shoulders, oddly shy with a dimpled hopeful grin squished against Bee’s face. 

Her brow arches, but Roland is quick to side step as her other half comes into view, squeezing her arms around Regina, “It’s good to see you.” 

Regina nods, feels her lips pull apart into a light smile. She looks happy, less burdened. it suits her. “You, too. Where’s Robin?” 

As if on cue, he is walking up the pathway, and if she’d been watching, Regina would have seen her other half beam brighter than the sun at her family, but her gaze widens, leaving her speechless and unable to do anything but stare at them. 

A little boy squeezing his Papa’s hand tight, eyeing Regina up nervously, all dark molten chocolate eyes half hidden behind a sweeping of hickory silk hair. He looks just like her, Regina and his mother she supposes. 

For a moment Regina is so wrapped up in his brown button eyes that she nearly forgets that there are two of them. Flicking her gaze up, she settles on a little girl, her face tucked into Robin’s neck, long, lightly waved matching coloured hair spiraling down her back, but beneath it, Regina see’s the cerulean hue of her eyes. She has Robin’s eyes. 

Standing stock still as Robin slows, she barely recognizes the fact that her other half has scooped up her boy, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek with a smile before turning back, still beaming at her son as her fingers link with Robin’s. 

“Regina, this is Ravenna and Reid.”

She’s gobsmacked. Sure she knew about them, but to see them, tangible and real in front of her, of all the thoughts she figured would stream around her mind in this moment, the one she hadn’t expected to burn into the forefront, is just that, well - they are beautiful. 

Small and curious as they stare back at her. And it has to be confusing for them, too. She looks just like their own mother. The puzzlement is obvious in Reid’s eyes that narrow, nose slightly scrunched as he scans her face silently, trying to decipher if she is friend or foe. She knows that look - he is a Mills down to the core sizing her up in a way Regina can’t help but find absolutely adorable. 

Tucking a lock of hair being her ear, she exhales a quiet breath and moves a fraction closer. “It’s nice to meet you, Reid.” 

She smiles softly, even as the little boy shrinks slightly into his mother’s long curls, who smirks, burrows her face into his cheek with a whispered, “It’s okay, say hi.” 

He pouts for a half second, sending a side glare to his mother before muffling out a muted, “Hi,” towards Regina, uncertain about this entire situation clearly, but his eyes never leave hers. Regina beams wetly, the tears beginning to flush along her lashes. She wipes away the tears before the can fall, feeling the Queen’s hand gently squeeze her forearm. Reid leans up at that, stares at Regina’s face for a long moment with a frown. “Why are you sad?” 

Inquisitive little man. 

She sniffs, shakes her head with a touch of longing towards the family in front of her. “I am just really happy to finally meet you that’s all.” She half lies, because it’s true. She is happy...to a strange degree. This was the entire point of sending her other half off to the realm where her own soulmate was. They were supposed to get a happily ever after and for that Regina is honestly grateful, but it still stings at the prospect of what she herself could have had. 

Righting herself, she turns to Roland and Bee, whose eyes are staring directly at Robin, utterly stunned at the man. “Bee, come here.” Regina extends her arms, scooping the girl up into her chest, “This is your...aunt.” She faces her doppleganger suddenly aware that she isn’t exactly sure what to call her, they share a name and it would be far too confusing for any child to understand why they are, in all essence, the same person. But it appears her other half is far more prepared for this as she smiles, runs a soft hand over Bee’s cheek, “Hi, baby girl, I’m Nina. What’s your name?” 

“Bee.” 

“That’s a beautiful name.” The Queen toys with Bee’s braid, thumbing it gently. “You are stunning.”

“What’s that mean?” 

“It’s something your daddy used to say, it means really, really pretty.” 

“You knew my daddy?”

Regina stills for a second, watching how the Queen’s eyes soften in a memory. “I did.” Her gaze flicks over to Robin, who stands with Ravenna still hidden in his arms, but he gives her a small reassuring smile. “He was pretty great.” 

They walk inside the mansion and settle in the living room. Reid situated beside Regina on the floor, not quite close enough to touch, but a little less reserved about being near her. She falls into conversation with her doppleganger about their life, what’s been going on in the other realm, where they live, how things are going. It seems like life has treated them quite nicely now that they have moved into a cottage in the forest. 

Bee has taken up residence in the Queen’s lap, playing with the long curls that drape over her shoulders, every now and then interrupting to ask a question about her dad which the Queen is far too happy to answer with a sweet smile. It hasn’t escaped Regina, however, that Bee is avoiding Robin. A person she’s been dying to meet. He has simply sat beside the Queen, Ravenna leaning against him, her eyes trained on Regina. She is a beautiful little girl. All long dark hair, pink lips and bright blue eyes. Clearly between the twins she is much more shy than her brother. 

“Do you have magic like my mom?” 

Regina looks down to see Reid having inched closer, nearly brushing his knees against hers. Turning her palm over, Regina lets a flurry of bubbles erupt, popping around the little boys face as he laughs shyly, wrinkling his nose at the sparkles that rain down into his lap. She notices above his head Ravenna’s eyes enthralled by the display, though she still stays stock still in her father’s lap. 

“Can you do it again?” Reid asks, sitting straight up on his knees, and Regina tries to not let her heart stutter at the feeling of his tiny hands on her forearm. She lets her magic burst once more, sending a hundred bubbles into the sky that both Bee and Reid are quick to race around popping, giggling at the rainbow showers colouring the sky. A single bubble, however, floats quietly over to Ravenna, bobs a few times before her eyes before landing softly in her lap. She watches as a little finger pokes the sphere, the happy smile that pulls against her lips, as she rolls with a light laugh into Robin’s chest. 

“She seems happy.” The Queen comments quietly to Regina, “And looks a lot like your Robin.” Regina grins at the blonde messy braid that flies about. “I think she is. We’ve tried to make sure she’s grown up knowing about her dad. But she has a lot of questions.” She shrugs, waves another plethora of bubbles to keep them occupied. Ravenna slipped out of Robin’s arms at some point, joining the other two tiny bodies in their popping escapade, leaving Robin to lean over his wife’s shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. 

She knows it’s meant only as a gesture of affection toward his love, but the sight makes Regina ache, to the point she feels a lump growing in her throat. They are happy. She has to remember that. Sending her other half to find him was the right thing to do, regardless of her own situation. It’s suddenly hot, too hot, making it hard for her to breathe and the last thing she wants is to have a meltdown right now. “I’m just going to grab some water, can I get you both something?” 

“Water is fine.” Robin nods, but the Queen cocks a brow at Regina - she knows and it takes everything in Regina to not let the tears fall. Not now. Standing, she excuses herself and makes quick haste into the kitchen. Her fingers gripping along the edge of the sink as she tries desperately to steady herself. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

She repeats it over and over again, brushing her hair from her eyes and begging her knees to hold her up. A pair of arms suddenly wrap around her waist, small arms, and a forehead pressing between her shoulder blades. Roland. She sniffs hard, wiping away any residual tears, before she turns to find him sadly looking up at her. Running a hand through his curls, she shakes her head, mumbling a quiet apology into his hair as she lets him hug her in tight. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s weird for me, too.” He confesses quietly into her chest, sighing heavily before pulling away. “I see them all the time and I get to see you every month, but it’s not really the same.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

He smiles wetly, wipes his nose on the back of his palm, “I want to stay here. Even just for the summer.” 

Regina freezes. He...he wants to stay...here...with her. Her heart thunders in against her ribs. “Y-you d-do?” Her voice trembles. Shakes and catches in her throat when he nods, muffles out a shy, “If you’re okay with that?” which is the most ridiculous thing he could ever ask her. Of course he can stay. He has a room in her house, clothes, friends, and a life here, too. He could stay forever if he wanted to. 

“I’d love that.” 

“Yeah?” His eyes beam, “It’s just, I know they try. But he’s not my dad, at least not the dad I remember. But here...” He motions around the kitchen, before landing his gaze back on her, “Being around you, it just feels more like home, where he is. Ya know?” 

She promised she wouldn’t cry, but apparently that rule holds no ground on her other boy asking to live with her. So the tears flood down as she cups his cheek, pressing a hard kiss to his forehead before wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders, hugging him fiercely. 

“Come on. They are probably wondering why water is taking so long.” He grins, all dimpled and perfect. Regina chuckles, wipes her eyes once more and follows him back into the living room, glasses in tow only to find Bee squarely situated in Robin’s lap on the carpet, both smiling the exact same smile at one another. It makes her heart clench, seeing Bee finally getting to meet some part of her father. 

It’s good. Weird and strange, but good. 

Roland settles beside the Queen and Reid, leaving Regina to take up space behind him on the couch. Beside her, she feels the cushions sink at the intrusion of a small body, her eyes peering down to find Ravenna wriggling her way slowly beside her. It’s all big, beautiful, sparkly blue eyes, a strand of chocolate curl hanging between them before a small hand tugs it behind her ear. 

Regina watches as Ravenna reaches out to grab her hand, turning it over palm face up, before laying her own hand over top. She smiles at the little girls studious scowl, but probably more so at the slight pulse of magic that sparks between their skin. Ravenna huffs out a breath and lets her palm slide, revealing a tiny pink and white striped flower twirling in Regina’s hand. 

“Baby, that’s incredible.” The Queen dazzles in amazement beside Regina’s thighs, tears flushing into her eyes at the sight of her daughters first magical burst. Stunned, Regina lets out a half sobbed chuckle, running her fingers through Ravenna’s hair as her niece smiles triumphantly, her eyes bluer than the ocean, just like Robin’s, her Robin’s. 

It’s not what she thought this day was going to be like but for the first time in a long time, Regina finds herself imagining a future where she could be happy.


	64. Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin likes to kiss the exposed parts of skin the EQ reveals (115)

 

 

_Missing Year:_

 

It’s the bloody dresses she wears.

The low cut ones down her back, that dip into the curve of her spine, giving a peek-a-boo show to those two indents just above her ass. The velvet ones that cling to her skin in a way his hands itch to rip off and replace. It’s the corsets that push her magnificent assets up for his eyes to devour hungrily.

It’s all of it.

Every single damn one that has his blood pumping furiously everytime she waltzes by, as though unaffected by her clothing choice like he is.

He’s seen what’s under those dresses, too. Tasted and touched every last bare inch of her. From the olive cream buttered skin at the tip of her toes to the crown of her head. Back to front, inside and out. He knows how she feels. Warm, soft, full and wet. It’s all he can think about these days. The feeling of her all wrapped around him. Grinding incessantly in the chase for her pleasure, moaning his name huskily in his ear, asking for more on top of more on top of even more. He’d give her the sky, the moon, sun and stars if she asked for it. Anything she desires, he will find a way to acquire it.

And she knows it.

He knows she knows it.

The way her lips coyly grin over a goblet of wine, though her eyes don’t dare move to catch his heated gaze.

It’s on purpose.

How heavily she swallows. The peaking of a tongue swiping away a dribble of red succulence that threatens to stain her skin. Even the breath she takes — long, drawn in, painfully measured, one that has her breasts rising slowly, perking up devilishly for his silent perusal.

She likes to tease and toy with him, with his insatiable desire for her.

It provides her some sort of power over him, though perhaps he gives his submission willingly, devoutly — and more importantly, only to her.

So it’s to no surprise that when she strides in, clad in a red, sequined gown that hugs her in a way sin paints itself all over a sinner, that he feels his pulse thump in his throat.

Regretfully he can’t see the exposed skin of her back, a dark amethyst cloak framed in a merlot collar hides the four beauty marks along the curve of her shoulder blade from his eyes, but the front... the front is something he could spend hours drinking in.

It’s crimson red, adorned with diamonds that curve along the swell of her chest, dipping low enough down he can spot the tiny heather brown mole that rests between her breasts. He’s licked that mark. Buried his face in that exact spot, something he’d much like to do right now. But they are stuck in another one of these ridiculous meetings so his rather indecent thoughts that run rampant through his mind and straight to his nether regions will just have to wait.

And wait. Slow, torturous minutes that drag by slower than Little John trying to run, and Robin is beginning to lose his patience with every slight sigh that escapes her lips, boredom painted across her face. Her pretty fucking face. One that he’d much rather see from between her thighs, listening to those breathy sounds she makes, the cinch in her brow and tug of her fingers through his hair, demanding him to keep going.

His cock twitches at the thought.

Adjusting himself discreetly under the table, he puffs out a groan as Charming starts another round of babbling nonsense about things Robin could honestly care less about. More so when he sees a slice of creamy thigh peek out from beneath a rather extensive slit he’s not sure how he missed. Probably because he was a bit too focused on her breasts earlier, but he’s more than appreciative for the new exposure of thighs that should be wrapped around his waist instead.

Another southern pulse flushes hot in his groin. Unfortunately, his staring hasn’t gone unnoticed by her he realizes as she smirks to no one, but her fingers trail along the hem of her cloak, pulling it gently to the side to pool beside her hip, revealing more of that meaty thigh he’d give his right hand to bite down on.

She likes it when he nips at her body, laves the markings with a wet tongue after. It makes her shiver deliciously underneath him, or above him, in front of him, whatever the predicament may be, he loves those little trembles.

Her legs cross, uncross, and then back again to the other side so her right foot dangles over her left ankle. They are staggering tall, her heels. Could easily puncture through skin should she decide to crush someone beneath her with a meer step. A small, black strap wraps and buckles around her ankle, and Robin nearly groans. Not four nights back those exact heels were draped over his bare shoulders as he rucked into her, over and over, slipping and digging almost painfully into his back.

He knew she was a tease, loves it about her, but this is just downright ruthless of her. To wear such things when he can’t touch her, when he can’t feel or taste her - at least not without scandalizing the entire castle. Though he’s growing more impatient and less concerned with defaming this council table with a crowd around him. Toss ‘em all to hell for all he cares, her dress is held up by a tiny burgundy strap, one that his teeth could ever so easily slide off.

Behind them a crash echoes through the hall, David (the mighty courageous prince he is) draws his sword, a valiant and completely ridiculous action that has Robin snickering quietly. The guy is nice enough but a bit pompous at times. All charge and no real thought. The dwarves follow like good little soldiers, the wolf armed with a crossbow behind them, leaving just himself, the princess, and his Queen whose yet to move a muscle.

“Regina, shouldn’t we go help?”

“By all means, Snow, waddle your way over there.”

The princess scoffs and runs a hand over her rather pregnant belly. She levels Regina with a glare, one the Queen apparently caves to, which is odd. Robin tries to not stare as she bends over the table, gripping the arms of the chair, her breasts of full display for him for a half lingering second before she stands, her brow cocking high at him.

“Shall we go rescue the rabble, thief?”

Her grin says it all. The resounding crash a few moments ago was nothing but the play of her magical fingers. He should probably tell her he loves her, again, for the hundredth time. She’s given them a distraction, an escape from having their ears talked off any longer.

Slinging his bow across his back, he bows dramatically at her passing smile, and follows the sway of her hips through the doors and clearly to the right, away from the crowd and towards the stairs. He’s consumed in a cloud of purple before his hands can tug her cloak free.

\----------

By the time the smoke clears, he’s in her chambers, standing dumbly as the offensive garment she’d been wearing earlier hiding the rest of her body from his gaze is graciously falling to the floor. An answered prayer.

She cocks her head over her shoulder, eyeing him up devilishly with a bitten back grin.

He is supposed to move. But it’s all bare and exposed down to the base of her spine. All delectable, warm, soft skin standing there, waiting for his hands to devour. His rather sweaty, tingling palms clenched at his sides.

“Do you like the dress?” She smiles coyly, her fingers running over her shoulder, pulling the long curls of hair to the other side as she turns. “It’s a bit tight.” Her palm runs over her stomach, over the diamonds that curve around her hip. “Don’t you think?”

He hears her hum thoughtfully, toying with a gem between her breasts, and all he can do is stand there, staring at her like an utter fool, a besotted one in love, but still a fool nonetheless. Her sigh hits him square in his cock as she fans a hand over her neck, moaning about how it’s so damn hot in this room, how she desperately needs to get out of this dress.

That spurs him into action. There isn’t going to be a chance in hell that she is taking that sinful thing off without him touching her in it first. Her laugh is muffled against his mouth as he crashes into her, a low grown in her throat as his hands greedily roam over bare skin, squeezing and palming everything he can.

“Lay down.”

Her eyes heat as his demanding request, a peek of tongue coming out to swipe along her kiss bruised lower lip. His fingers never relinquish their touch on her body as she steps backward, slowly until her knees hit the end of the mattress and she sinks down. His pulse thumps hard in his heart, harder lower down at the look she gives him, seated below him as he still stands, the grin that parts at his shiver as her nails drag over his belly, running dangerously along the waistline of his pants.

She goes to lean back, but his hand darts out to grab her elbow, halting her descent. Her eyebrow arches high in slight confusion.

“Lay down on your stomach.”

“Say please.”

He blows out a laugh and shakes his head. She will be the damn death of him. His palm coasts up the arch of her neck, sliding slowly up till his thumb can swipe along her lips. He damn near loses all this momentary control when her teeth nip at the pad of his finger, the warm wetness of her tongue sucking his digit into her mouth for a fractional second before letting it pop out. He’d very much like something else to be in her mouth, will beg for it if he has to, but first - first he has to eat her alive in this gown.

“Please.”

“Now was that so hard?” she grins up at him wolfishly, giving his thumb one last nip.

He tugs his shirt off as she slides up the bed, the slit in the dress opening dangerously for a half moment before she does as he asked and rolls onto her front, pulling a pillow to lay on and letting her eyes flutter close, willing and ready for his attention. His gaze roams her body, his hand following quick suit as he swings a leg over her thighs, sitting squarely below the round backside his hands squeeze ever so gratefully.

His thumbs dip into the dimples in her back, rubbing slow, methodical circles, reveling in the long, drawn out breaths she lets go. He grins as her hips wiggle slightly as his palms travel to her ribs, gripping and smoothing over her skin. There is a row of four beauty marks below her shoulder blade, a personal favorite find of Robin’s. Bending down he adorns the marks with his lips, licking a wet line from bottom to top, smiling at the hitch in Regina’s breathing, the light moan that catches as he nips at her spine.

He kisses his way up to the nape of her neck, sucking at the pulse point behind her jaw, involuntary grinding himself into her backside, desperate to find some relief for his ever hardening self. Her whimper has him dropping his brow to her back, the roll of her hips beneath him making his head spin deliciously. But he wants to give her the attention she deserves before he buries himself in her. Dreadfully, he pulls his lower half away from her ass, scooting down the bed to line her spine with a row of wet kisses until he reaches the row of diamonds at the base.

“Robin.”

Her voice is all breathy, tight and needy as she lifts herself up onto her elbows, craning her head around to catch his heated gaze.

He knows she likes to tease him. But the words she husks out, a trembled whisper to the fact she apparently isn’t wearing anything underneath the dress, completely bare, naked, wet and exposed, has Robin’s cock throbbing painfully.

His palm lands with a hard smack against her ass, resulting in a wanting hiss puffing from Regina, before he grabs her hips and rolls her over without preamble or warning. The action has her dress tangled high around her thighs, the slit curling and bunching up at the junction of her pelvis.

She wears these dresses because she likes how he looks at her in them, the way he is desperate to touch and kiss every last inch of exposed skin he possibly can. Perhaps her most favorite, however, is the unexposed places he devours, a promise he makes good on right now as his palms ghost up her legs, parting them enough so he can bend down, ducking underneath the red velvet before she can ask him for anything.

Her head hits the pillow, a breathless moan slipping free at the feeling of his tongue and her last thought is of what dress she will wear tomorrow for him, only for him, always for him.

 

FIN.

 


	65. Unspoken Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark!OQ first kiss (1) & "We have to be quick" (76) & "This can never happen again" (94) & Queenie and Locksley bring Robin back for Regina (193)

**UNSPOKEN**

 

It's dark and they shouldn't be here. He should have held his ground firmly over his explicit non-desire to come to this end of town. It's dangerous, filled with angry drunks, violent thieves, and seedy men whose eyes linger far too long on the curves of her body. He is no stranger to this place, has never been opposed to being a customer of these parts before.

But that was before her, before she was here with him. They may not be together, not in that sense, their lips have never touched, hands have never gone further than a helping hand, or a gentle touch to a hip or chest. He isn't sure what they are, but he knows his heart beats faster when she is around, and she blushes a dark rouge when he smiles at her. They are something, not admitting to it, but they both know what lies within unspoken words.

She needs no protection, no knight in shining armour to sweep her off her feet. He'd venture if such a man tried he'd be spitted on a burning pike before dawn rose. Yet still the hairs on the back of his neck stand rigid as he follows the light swishing of her cape along cobblestone paths, shadowed by dimly lit lanterns. It's all he can see of her face, in fact, the shadows cast upon her cheeks by long lashes and a thick, hooded cloak. On occasion, when she turns to see if he is still there, he catches a glimpse of burgundy red lips, a smirk along olive skin and then it's gone. There are few women in this place who look like her, who could even be bold enough to say they are of equal beauty to the forgotten queen, and he knows that the men who sit in the alleyways and among ale and bourbon soaked tables notice her, too.

Which is why they shouldn't be here. He has no issue striking a man down for simply looking at her the wrong way, with indecency in their eyes, but there is a difference between single combat and facing multiple men. She could defend herself, he has no doubt, though that is not the point. They may not be together in that way, but something within him hardens vengefully at the idea of being parted from her.

She insisted. Demanded it, set a raging fire in her eyes he could not douse though he tried. "You are not my keeper, Locksley." She'd spat indignantly over the idea he would tell her she could not go where she pleased. Anger rose in him. A burning itch under his skin at her tempered defiance that perhaps this once, he was right about something. He's lived in this forest his entire life, and damned as she may be in her stubbornness, he knows more than she does about where the dangers lie within. And this place has threats written all over it, she is just too blind to see it.

Or perhaps she does and has decided to not admit it for her heels slow to a stand still until his chest presses up against her back, and he feels her sink a touch into the arm that wraps around her waist. "We have to be quick," she breathes, clutching a leather fist to her stomach. "In and out before he notices we are here." He can hear the tremor in her voice, slight as it may be, it's there.

He doesn't like it. If she is afraid they have damn good reason to run the other direction. "This is foolish. We should leave." He growls softly into her ear, mentally cementing to memory the fact that her hair smells like rich amber right now; it is no time to be thinking of such things when he can feel her pulse quicken at the sound of a far door slamming shut. She shakes her head, still distressingly emphatic that they go through with this plan. He gets it, but surely there has to be another avenue they can go about it. When he tries to turn her, her body fights back like a stone, so he moves in front of her instead, paying no mind to the glower she levels him with, holding her shoulders square to his chest.

"Regina, this is a bad idea."

"If you are scared, run home. I don't need you."

He boils in his gut at her sneer. Wants to grab her by the hand and shake her until she sees that this is a suicide mission, and while he is no stranger to a bit of hazardous adventure every now and then, he'd still like to see tomorrow's sunrise, preferably with her beside him. Scowling, she tries to peer around his shoulders, down the blackened street to where the soft pulse of purple smoke escapes beneath a door. A door he'd very much like to not enter.

"I will not leave you here, but—"

"No. There is no  _but_. You want to stay, then stay out of my way. You want to leave, then go now." He knows she is trying to be sharp in her stinging tone, but he has been with her long enough to know that it's her eyes that give away what she feels. And they stare at him, long and hard, watering slightly along the lower lashes. She is afraid… to admit she is scared, to admit that she doesn't want him to leave, and he knows she will not ask it of him. There are walls built around her that have been there for decades. She will not beg, nor make any acknowledgment towards what resides below the steel mask she wears.

"Fine, but I go in first."

Her brow narrows, that isn't the plan. He is the thief, she the distraction. The distraction who is about to walk into a deadly skeleton's cage without a key to escape with. She will argue. He knows she will. It's their nature to be combative, and yet the more time they are together, the more he begins to realize that beneath the angry words and hot spitting barbs thrown back and forth, the majority of their arguments are over who will take an arrow through the chest for the other first, who will step into danger so the other is safe. And regardless of if they say it aloud, they both know the truth of it.

He sees the protest on her lips, the way her gaze hardens, hiding the heavy swallow she takes. "Tha—" His finger silences her as he presses it to her mouth, taking a rather wild leap of faith that she will not burn him to the ground for it. For a moment neither move, her dark eyes trained on his, thunderous and stunned that he would dare. But she doesn't remove his finger, not with a violent swipe she would have thought initially. Instead her eyes close, chin dipping down, swiveling to the side so that his palm rest on her cheek instead, and she inhales heavy and hard, uncaring that he has stepped into her personal space, with a hand on her low back.

Fate gave him a stubborn soulmate, though he is no withering picnic either most days. But still, it is moments like this, where she allows him to hold her for a breath of time, close and calm, that he understands why they are tethered to one another. He cannot explain it, it's just a feeling at the base of his spine, one that winds its way through every vertebrae, around his ribs and into his heart.

"I understand why, but I can't let you walk in there whilst I hide among the shadows." He breathes against her forehead, "Please do not make me watch you do that." She sighs, runs a hand over his chest, lingering on his pulse with what he would think to be impossible, but it looks like a tear slipping silently down her cheek.

"You'd be asking me to potentially watch you die all over again."

He frowns, not at the fact he's never heard her voice so soft and quiet, but the shake that follows.

"I will not live through that again."

Her eyes don't meet his own as she pushes him lightly aside, righting her cloak about her neck and striding off once more, turning back only for a moment to see if he is behind her once more. It's a reckless, stupid plan, but he follows anyway. Into the darkness where a man who can speak to the dead resides, hidden in purple velvet, the smell of burning wax, and where the living seldom walk out of. He watches from the shadows as she knocks three times, lowering her hood as the door cracks open. His heart pounds heavily as she smiles, taking the long extended fingers in front of her into her grasp and stepping inside, but not without flicking her gaze to him one last time, dark brown eyes swimming with emotions her voice doesn't lend a hand too.

Inhaling sharply as the door closes with a thud, he slinks around the back, eyeing for a silent way inside. He knows what he is looking for. They've spoken about it for nights on end. A window above has him scaling quietly, dropping into a dark room without a sound save for the muffling voices below his feet. Time isn't a friend in this situation — this place feeds off the heart beats of the living. He can feel it. The way invisible strings begin to loop around his neck, slowly, tighter and tighter, sealing off his ability to breath.

He hears her, feels a pulse of magic seep across the floorboards under his feet, and this is their only chance. He follows the small gold thread that weaves through the room, she told him it would be there, at the end of the rope. He just can't get caught whilst following it. But the air here is thick, and his eyes are starting to burn. It stops, loops and coils around a knob on a drawer and he scrambles towards it, drawing it open as slow as possible lest there be something that jumps out.

It's in a black satchel, the shimmering rope slinks around it and fades. He has it. Tucks it safely into his breast pocket and moves back to the window ready to climb out and breathe in a gulp of fresh air. But the room shudders beneath him. Quakes and flickers in the barely there light. Something is wrong. He cannot hear her voice anymore, and she promised she would not go quiet on him. Swallowing down around his pounding heart, he pads across the room, barely breathing with every step he takes, and he will kill the man if she is not alive.

He moves a dark velvet curtain aside with the tip of his arrowhead, hawk-eyed, scanning the room where she should be. It's dark. Black even. To the point where he isn't actually certain if he can see in front of his boots as he steps inside the room. It's something he's never experienced before. It's almost as if the room has stolen all the light, swallowed it whole until nothing but opaqueness is left behind. Magic. It's blinding him to his surroundings. Taking away one of his senses and leaving him sightless, like sitting prey. They need to get out of here.

Adjusting slightly as he walks blindly, he listens for her, for anything really, something to guide him. She promised she wouldn't go quiet on him, that she would keep talking, keep making some noise so he knew the entire time she was alive. But all he has in his ears is silence. The room shivers with a pulse of magic he can feel, creaks and roars for a moment before going dead. There is no sound. No sight. No nothing. Just his fingers still drawn on the bow, heart hammering in his chest.

It didn't work.

She'd be talking, or making some sort of noise, telling him she was okay. Silence means only one thing. Bile rises in his throat and burns viciously. This was a stupid plan. He knew it and now he's lost her. His pulse pounds furiously in his ears, how could he have been so stupid to let her walk in there alone. It was reckless to leave her, stubborn as she was in demanding that be the case.

"Come on!"

His hand is latched onto before he realizes she is in front of him, tugging hard towards the back entrance, damn near dragging him out of the house that rattles and groans suddenly, cracking and splitting as beams and dust begin to fall around them. He can hear her coughing, though she doesn't slow, and he feels the slight burning of skin grow on the back of his neck, hotter than fire, and smelling like burnt flesh. His eyes turn a half second, only to see a wave of electric green chasing them both, spitting white torrents and flames at their heels. She does nothing, just holds his hand and dodges around the crumbling house.

"Hold onto me." He hears her, barely amongst the thunder behind them, but he feels her fingers grip tighter. She pulls his arm, hard, slamming his back into her chest, and the last thing he sees before a cloud of purple surrounds them is a spire of electricity rocketing into the sky.

His back hits soft grass and fresh, clean air, and he breathes heavily, sending up a silent thanks for his sight and hearing once more. She is beside him, coughing so hard he thinks her ribs may snap.

"Di-did yo-u get it?"

He'd have thought perhaps she'd ask if he was alright first, or at least allow him to ask her the same thing, having just torched the dead magician's home to the ground and all. Scowling at her back, he tosses the satchel beside her, letting it land with a gentle thump. "Better be bloody well worth it." He growls, uncaring at the cocked brow she gives him in response.

"You didn't have to be there."

"I'm aware," he seethes, running a hand through his hair, demanding himself to not erupt at her for what she just did to him.

She turns, tempered and irritated with his tone, "So why are you being so petulant? It was your choice." From the corner of his gaze he sees her stand, brushing off her cloak absentmindedly with a roll of her eyes. She truly has no idea. "Are you done being angry with me? Can we go?" She sighs hotly with a lick of her lips, staring down at him, though he avoids her entirely, a deep set scowl on his brow. He looks genuinely angry, or perhaps not angry but hurt. Why, she has no idea; aside from a few bumps and bruises they both left a rather precarious situation unscathed.

"Fine, you can sit here and stew for whatever reason, I'm leaving." She turns on her heels, stachel in hand.

"You went quiet on me," he mutters in a hushed and defeated tone behind her. She stills, frowns, and eyes him puzzledly. And he just looks at her, as though she has just stabbed in him the heart without a second thought. "The one thing I asked was for you to not go silent." He stands, shakes his head dejectedly, "You went quiet. I thought you were dead." She sees the way his jaw tenses with the words, the tremble in his eyes that gape at her. "And you don't seem to care." With a shrug, he walks past her, unable to meet the stunned gaze of brown eyes as the pained fury boils within him.

He gets it. They are the same person, it's why they are tethered to one another like this. But regardless of how much she may say she does not need him, what she fails to realize is that he finds himself needing her, wanting her, being afraid of losing her. He cannot force her to feel anything for him. Hasn't even put a name to what he feels himself. For a woman he hasn't even kissed yet, there is far too much emotion within him. And for right now, he is tired and would just like to go home.

"Robin."

He does not stop.

"Robin, wait!"

He shakes his head, waves her off, "I'm done, Regina."

Her hand clutches his, "Dammit Robin. Stop for a second." It's the wetness in her voice that stills his feet. She does not cry. He has never seen her cry save for her son's birthday. But her eyes are filled with tears, a thick lining threatening to spill over as her breath shakes out through a bitten lip.

She swallows thickly, "I promised I wouldn't go quiet on you."

"Then why did you?"

"I had to."

He huffs, scowls into the night sky, "Regina, I—"

"He knew I wasn't alone." She breaks his words, "He knew that's why I was talking so much, because you were there." A tear slips down her cheek, with a hard sniff she explains, "I went quiet because I was afraid he'd find you. I'm sorry."

Expecting to feel angry towards her for breaking their promise, he is caught staring dumbly down at her instead. They need to stop this. Putting their own lives in jeopardy for the other's safety without even talking about it. She wants to protect him just a fiercely. He cannot fault her for it when he does the same thing.

Thumbing a curl away from her eyes, it crosses his mind that they both just about died, he nearly lost her and it would be a horrible fate to know that he hadn't yet kissed her. That because they are both stubborn about being vulnerable with the other, that this may have slipped right through his hands.

Exhaling slowly, he grins at her confusion over his sudden softness, dips his chin down and captures her lips for the first time. Swallows the light, breathy stunned noise she makes and holds her tight to his chest.

It feels nothing like he expected kissing her to feel like.

There is a gentility in the way she presses back into him, a tenderness in the hand that curls around his neck. Where he thought it would be all dominance and heat, it's light, like breathing in fresh, crisp air.

She is soft, softer than he'd considered she'd ever be. Tastes of warm honey as her mouth parts, sucks and nips against his own. She is smiling. He can feel it, chases it with another kiss, and another, gripping her to him until he burns from the inside out. She fits against him, he realizes, strikingly well.

Her breath puffs warm against his mouth as they pop apart wetly. "That won't happen again." He frowns, half gutted at her words.

Hanging his head, he stares at her hands on his chest.

It's fine. If she doesn't want him the same way he clearly craves her, with this feeling, a rush that sparks at the base of his spine, and ignites something hidden in his heart, he will not force her.

"I'm sorry." He sags slightly, "I shouldn't have—"

Her lips hush him, pressing hard and warm as she wraps herself around him, hoisting herself slightly higher, tangling her hands back into his hair and inhaling deeply against his lips.

"I meant going silent." The warmth of her breath exhales around him. "I won't do it again. I promise."

He feels the smile crack his cheeks as her nose nudges against his own, a swelling in his chest. They are not perfect. Not together and certainly not apart. But he ventures he'd rather be imperfect with her than without.

"You can kiss me again though."

It's the arch in her brow, the slight blushing bitten back smile that has him stumbling a bit over himself. Lovestruck fool.

"Now, let's get back to Storybrooke. Can't have nearly died for nothing right?"

He grins, regains his feet and pulls her tight once more to kiss her because she said he could, soaks in everything about her, before she laughs and pushes him lightly away with a heat to her eyes. "This first." Nodding he laces his fingers through her own, though loathed to part with her lips now that he has tasted her.

"Fine. This first."

She smiles and throws a bean in front of them, hair blowing wildly in the wind as the portal forms. He watches how her fingers fiddle with the stolen satchel, a shade of uncertainty crossing her features as they wait.

"Must feel nice."

"What?" She flicks her gaze up to him puzzled.

"Giving Regina her happy ending back."

Blowing a breath from her nose she nods, grips his hand tight in hers and lifts up on her tiptoes to buss his lips. "I hope it works."

"I'd be rather irritated it if didn't and you just about died trying to get it."

"It's a resurrection stone, Robin." She chuckles against his shoulder, sinking into him softly, "You could have brought me back."

He rolls his eyes, squeezes her hand and watches as the small town swirls into view. If this works, then it was all worth it. But the thought doesn't escape him why they are doing this all in the first place.

Lost love.

It's not something he particularly wants to deal with, especially not with her. He has an entire lifetime of kissing her ahead of him, an entire life of loving her.

"I would prefer you staying alive, just in case."

FIN.


	66. Page 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQPromptParty #22 - Page 23 shows up for Regina

 

**Final Scene of OUAT - Set in SB**

 

He said he would try but could make no promises as to the outcome. Attempting to resurrect the dead is hard enough, and the way Robin died would make it exceptionally more difficult. She knew all that already, understood that more than likely it wouldn’t work. 

 

She was allowing hope to wrap it’s spindly claws into her heart again. Just one more time. For a final time. After this, she will let it go. Let him rest. Let herself try and move on, find another version of a happy ending within herself. She doesn’t _ need _ him to make her feel at peace with the world, but she  _ wants _ him there; selfishly, maybe?, but regardless, being with him is far better than being without. 

 

So she will try one last time. 

 

He needed something personal of Robin’s, so she brought one of his arrows. He needed a drop of Regina’s blood, and she didn’t wince when the knife sliced across her hand. 

 

Her heart pulsed frantically as the electric green magic began to swirl around her, popping and crackling shards of lightning that she stood directly in the middle of. He said  _ think of him, everything about him _ \- and she tried, from the smallest details of silver in his eyes, to the last thing he ever did for her, the one thing that took him away, and then everything in between. A spiraling white cord wrapped around her from ankle to throat as she focused on the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the slight frown when he was lost in thought - the magical binding didn’t seem so suffocating across her chest if she thought about the way he loved his children, the softness in his voice in the early mornings - it didn’t burn quite as sharply against her skin with the memory of his lips touching hers, the desperation in those first few kisses, the last thing he’d said to her, that she was his future, how honest and resolute he sounded that night and how terribly she believed it was going to be true. 

 

It snapped the rope around her body, burst and evaporated in front of her, and for a half second, her eyes didn’t open, a blissful fraction of hope skittered over her skin. She waited to feel him, have his arms thrown around her tightly, waited to hear his voice, to taste his smile through a kiss. 

 

The bubble of hope deflated the second Facilier sighed, sadly. 

 

A tear rolled down her cheek at the feeling of a hand squeezing her own, a pained  _ I’m sorry Regina _ , whispered dejectedly. 

 

What else was she expecting when miracles aren’t real?

 

He walked her to Granny’s, bid her good night, and left Regina to stand alone underneath the archway, listening to the hustle and bustle of happy voices inside the diner, and feeling less and less like going inside. Turning on her heel, she walks slow, blinks away a few stray tears and tugs her, or rather Robin’s, scarf tighter around her neck as the snow swirls down gently. 

 

Home will be quiet. Home will have no prying eyes and curious questions as to why her eyes are puffy and red rimmed. It is safe, and so she walks, shivers slightly at the chill. The town always seems so small at night to her, quaint and warm, and the path to her mansion is a quick one.

 

Gloves would have been a good idea, she thinks, as numbness prickles her fingers. Graciously, the low yellow glow of her white front porch is already growing in the darkness. 

 

Reaching into her pockets for her keys, a crinkling noise echoes into the skies instead. Her brow cinches and frowns as she tugs a piece of paper from her pocket, one she knows far too well with it’s aged edges and soft texture. 

 

There is no point looking at it, at what could have been. She knows the painting by heart. Which colours swirl with which, the way he has her pressed gently into a stone archway, the youth in their first kiss that never happened. 

 

He told her once it meant hope, that there was a future for her somewhere, on some unseen path she’d yet to find. A daunting task to hold onto when time and time again it’s been stripped away. 

 

She blots away her tears, tucks the paper back into her pocket and knocks her key into the lock. 

 

It whistles by her, landing smack hard into the door. Her heart clenches at the way the arrow bounces rather gently in the oak it’s so tightly wedged itself into. 

 

“I figure it’s tradition now.” 

 

She feels the smile tug against her lips, her teeth biting down the overwhelming urge to either laugh hysterically or cry uncontrollably. He’s right. Every time they have met, in every single realm and timeline, its been with an arrow whizzing past her, more often than not saving her life even if she wouldn’t dare admit it. 

 

The snow crunches under her feet as she turns, slowly, letting her eyes guide her first incase this is all a hallucination. 

 

It’s heavy, the breath that whooses out of her. 

 

He’s there. 

 

Standing just beyond the first porch step, tousled hair speckled with snowflakes, a soft scruff hidden dimpled grin reaching up to bright blue watery eyes. 

 

She waits a half second, tips her head to the side as a tearful chuckle wetly escapes her at the way he shrugs and tosses his bow on her snowy lawn.

 

He steps towards her, she matches his movement until he is a step below her on the porch, hands finding purchase on her waist, one of her own smoothing over the green jacket, tucking deftly inside to rest on his chest, the other thumbing over the stubble on his jaw. 

 

She feels his weight lean into her palm, the heat in his feather light kiss as he simply looks at her serenely. 

 

“Hi.” He smiles, squeezing her hips and tugging her a fraction closer. She scans his face, trying to make sure he is real, that he is here, less than a foot from her, breathing and alive. 

 

“I apologize for being late, but you left my arrow behind.” 

 

She twists a touch, eyeing up the feathered shaft that rests in her front door, and the bubble bursts in her chest. Smiling like she hasn’t in years, her fingers gently card through his hair, thumbs sweeping softly along his cheeks, her heart thumping as his eyes close with a relieved sigh. 

 

Leaning down, her lips capture his, subtle and freely as though she hasn’t gone nearly a decade without kissing him. He still tastes the exact same. After all these years, it’s like coming home. Her hand moves to the nape of his neck, holding him to her, as their lips pop apart, slowly press back together, over and over. She can feel his smile, kisses it wider, glows at the light chuckle he lets go before finally pulling back, resting his forehead to hers.

 

It’s not what she pictured their reunion to be. She’d thought it would be more wild tears, frantic hugging, and devouring kisses to last a lifetime. Something more akin to the ridiculous ones they show in movies all the time, where the woman runs blindly sobbing into her lover’s arms, crying out to the highest heavens as he swings her about triumphantly - like Snow and Charming. 

 

Instead it’s this ethereal peacefulness that sinks deep within her, a glow hunkering low in her chest, a refined tenderness in the way he holds her for the first time again, it’s delicately solid. 

 

“I love you.” 

 

He wipes away the single tear curving over her cheek. 

 

“And I you M’lady.” 

 

Her fingers lace into his own, and he follows her quietly into her mansion, into the safe solitude of their home. 

 

Fin.


	67. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brainchild between myself and Brittany (@sbstevenson2) - At the end of Season 7

 

 

Death isn't what she expected. It’s soft and airy, ethereal in a strange sort of way. The light simply leaves her body, floats into the absence of time, fades from existence without a hint of sadness or guttural pain from those who watch her go. 

 

The last thing she sees is Henry’s face, gripping her hand and cupping her cheek in sweet, anguished sorrow as he begs her not to leave him with tear stained eyes. She wishes she could have told him it would be alright, that she would be okay, he would be just fine, that she loved him one last time. 

 

But death takes her before she can promise him all those things, winds it’s hands around her chest and tugs her down gently. 

 

She drifts for a while, through a blank space that invades her mind, until she feels life disappear completely within her, a last breath parting out of her lips as she closes her eyes, ready to let go, to be surrounded by some warm light that would take her soul away to that better place. 

 

At least she thought that was what would happen. 

 

What’s strange is the feeling of solid ground underneath her, grass blades tickling her palms, a light breeze ghosting over her skin. 

 

Frowning, she sits up, opening her eyes only to realize it’s not clouds or whatever the eternal life looks like but trees that surround her. Thick, tall pines that blow in the wind above. She recognizes these woods - this forest holds so many memories for her. It’s the place she’d gone to for a quiet reprieve when things in Storybrooke became overwhelming. It’s where Robin had found her, time and time again.

 

But she shouldn’t be here. She was just in Gold’s shop with Henry.

 

She stands up, walking toward where she knows she’ll find the town again. 

 

As she makes her way through the clearing of trees, she spots a figure perched upon a log. The log where her soulmate had pickpocketed her letter, reading over Rumplestiltskin’s words the day she realized she wasn’t an only child, and the confidence boost from her mentor she’d always found solace in was a lie. Sitting on that log had been the first time she’d been honest with someone, found someone who was willing to simply listen, even if he was a thief, he was her thief. 

 

The person’s back is facing her, shoulders slumped slightly, but it’s so familiar. It’s the shape of a man she’ll never forget. But that can’t be. He’s gone, dead, obliterated.

 

“Robin?” she asks tentatively, stepping closer to the log.  _ Their log.  _

 

Her breath freezes in wait as he turns around, feeling herself consumed by the color of bright, cerulean blue eyes that peer up at her.

 

“Regina.” His breath puffs out into a misty cloud around her. The softest whisper of familiar, deep timbered sotto breathing out her name has all the air in Regina’s lungs whooshing out in one swift go.

 

He’s smiling at her, that crooked half crinkled grin she used to wake up to in the earliest dawn hours. She could nearly touch him if her feet weren’t rooted to the spot, but her heart hesitates at the thought that this is real, in a strange way. He is dead, she is dead, and for this to happen, for him to be standing just three feet away from her, it feels a lot like a flickering of hope she’d long given up on. 

 

His eyes scan her face, waiting patiently as her mind battles with her heart. His hand moves, palm open to her. It’s with the peek of his tattoo that she is shaking her head, forcing her legs to move, a glow low in her belly, pulsing with every step closer to his smile. 

 

He stands up, meeting her halfway and wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. She inhales heavily, burying her face into the crook of his neck, filling her nose with the pine scent she’s never forgotten.  

 

It’s not enough, not close enough, her fingers slide over every part of his shoulders, down to his chest, into the soft, sandy brown hair, and back down his spine. Feeling him. It has her heart stuttering in impossible belief that she can touch him, can  _ feel  _ him touching her, hugging her, his lips pressed softly into her hair. 

 

Robin pulls back, far too soon for her liking, but she shivers as his hands run down her sides, finding a familiar resting place on her hips, and Regina can’t help but smile at it. 

 

The heat of unshed tears burn her eyes as she feels his fingers tip her chin up, meeting her gaze gently with a soft smile.

 

“Hello, my love.”

 

Her lungs tremble a rather breathless, “Hi,” back, a forgotten lightness creeping into her voice. Robin smiles, leans into her palm that moved to cup his cheek, into the soft swiping of her thumb beneath his eyes. Those bright blue, steady eyes she thinks about everytime she closes her own. She wants to kiss him, has missed his lips, missed everything about him, for far too long. Leaning up a touch nervously, she stares questioningly into his eyes, seeking permission. He smirks, that damn dimpled smirk of his that she loves so much, and presses her lips to his, praying that they still feel the same, not like a photograph as it was with the other Robin all those years ago. His lips meet hers, and he pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly. She can feel the heat of his body, and she smiles into their kiss, glad to feel him, to see him, to have him again.

 

His lips move over hers gently for a few moments before deepening their embrace. One of her hands grips his bicep while the other tangles into the hair at the base of his neck, trying to pull him even closer than they already are. She moans into his mouth as his part, letting his tongue move along hers. 

 

They pull back, huffing out short breaths and smiling brightly at each other. She’s missed that smile. Was always afraid she’d forget it after a while, but it turned out it was just another part of him that was cemented into her mind permanently. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip rather shyly, a move that always sent a shiver down her spine. 

 

Tears spring to her eyes as she looks upon the face of her soulmate, the man who gave up everything to let her live. She shakes her head in confusion. This doesn’t make sense. She remembers saying goodbye to Henry, remembers sacrificing herself for her son’s happiness. Robin had taught her so many decades ago that true love was just that, a sacrifice, giving up everything you have for the person you loved. If he’s here, in a place that looks so much like her home, that must mean this is the underworld they’d willingly gone to so long ago. 

 

“Am I…?”

 

“No,” he breathes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before dropping his hand back to her hips. He gives her a little squeeze before saying, “You sacrificed yourself for Henry, but you’re not dead yet, love.”

 

Her eyebrows furrow, confusion coloring her features. “If I gave up my life, then how am I not gone yet?”

 

Robin chuckles, stepping back and taking her hand. He leads her to their log, sitting down and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. 

 

“There’s still something tethering you to the real world,” he says, struggling to find the words to explain. “I’m not sure what it is, but you feel different - you feel... not all the way gone just yet.”

 

She looks around, eyebrows pinching as she tries to work out what’s going on. “Is this the underworld?”

 

He nods, and she drops her head down dismally. Hades’ world had been awful for the souls caught here, they all had been so miserable waiting forever to complete their unfinished business, to have a chance to move on to a better place. 

 

“I’m sorry. This isn’t a place I ever wanted you to be. It’s awful here from what I remember.” 

 

“This underworld isn’t the quite the same,” he assures. “Since Hades left, it’s been much more peaceful. It’s very similar to daily life up there.”

 

She cocks a brow curiously, lacing their fingers together.  

 

“It’s oddly tranquil, in a strange sort of way. Everyone here has some sort of purpose - a job if you will - taking care of this town as we wait to finish whatever is holding us here.”

 

Regina sighs and nods her head, happy to know that at least he hasn’t been tortured for two decades. “Is it me? Your unfinished business… is that why you’re stuck here still?” 

 

She has a feeling she is but would also feel terrible knowing that he’s been stuck in limbo for so long waiting for her and never being able to move on to the light, to the better place. 

 

He smiles gently at her, turning so his thigh is pressed against her bent knee. He takes her hands in his, wrapping them up in his warmth. “Partly,” he shrugs truthfully, bringing her hands up to his lips and pressing a loving kiss to her knuckles. “Part of my unfinished business is something I never got to tell you.”

 

She tilts her head to one side, shaking it and asking what he means. 

 

“Regina,” he says softly, as if not to disturb the silence of nature around them. She can hear birds chirping in the trees around them and leaves rustling from the gentle breeze that’s blowing. She looks into his eyes, wondering.

 

“I never got to tell you that I love you.”

 

Those tears she’s done so well to keep at bay spring to her eyes again, a lone tear slipping down her cheek as she lets out a little laugh. Of course she always knew he loved her, he gave up his entire existence for her, but hearing those three little words makes her heart skip a beat. She smiles through her tears as she sees his eyes glistening wetly as well. “I always loved you, and I’m sorry I never got to tell you.”

 

Regina shakes her head at him, reaching up to wipe the tears lining his lashes, smiling gently at the relieved sigh he lets go. “I know you do, Robin. I always knew.” His eyes flutter shut, missing the beaming smile parting her lips. “And I love you, too. More than anything.” She leans in, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

 

“What is the rest of your unfinished business?” she questions as they pull apart.

 

He sighs, sits back a fraction, his eyes moving to gaze at the dirt stuck to his boot. If she didn’t know better she’d say he looks nervous, running a hand down his face, behind his neck, as he chews on his lower lip. His fingers scratch lightly at his jaw before bringing it back down to hold hers in her lap. “My children,” he confesses, “I just need to know that they’re okay.”

 

“They are wonderful,” she beams, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Both of them are perfect, and a lot like you.” She sighs, looking into his eyes before giving him a sad smile, saying, “They miss their dad.” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

She nods, swallows a little heavier at the weight Robin’s eyes scan her face. He knows, he always did, when something wasn’t right, when she wasn’t feeling exactly herself. Sighing, she thumbs over his knuckles, decidedly not looking at him out of a flicker of guilt. 

 

“A lot happened after you died, some decisions I’m not exactly proud of, some that were out of my control.” 

 

His hums curiously, dips his chin down to meet her eyes, seeing the glimmer of pain behind the honesty. 

 

“Whatever it is Regina, you can tell me.” 

 

She tries to smile, fails pitifully, but tries anyway.

 

“Roland went back to the Enchanted Forest.” 

 

“He didn’t stay with you?” His voice drops an octave as he swallows thickly at Regina’s sad frown. 

 

“Henry ran away to New York; Emma and I went to go find him, and by the time I got home…” She sniffs hard, stifling her own pain at the memory of finding her other son gone, “John figured it was best he live where his father was from.” 

 

“They took him? How is that possible? They knew I wanted Roland to stay with you. They knew how much you meant to both of us.” His scowl deepens as he draws in a heavy breath. 

 

He’s angry. It’s written across his face, a tension in his shoulders she smoothes a palm over. She shrugs, “They did what they thought was best.” 

 

“Still, Regina.” He turns, squeezes her hands, pulling them both up to his lips, “You have to know I never would have wanted that. You loved my son like your own, and I trusted my men to understand that.” 

 

She sighs, “Thank you. There was definitely a point when I wondered if--” 

 

“No.” He cuts her off, “He should have stayed with you. In my heart I trusted that you would give him the best life possible, and I don’t doubt my men have tried in their own right, but I wish he would have stayed with his mother.” 

 

His confidence in her throws her off for a second, though it shouldn’t; he was always the one to have complete faith in her. The steadiness in his eyes that crinkle at the corners with a smile makes her bite down on her bottom lip as she chuckles wetly, leaning in to rest her forehead on his own. 

 

“I went back to find him.”

 

Robin stills at that, leaning back to capture her eyes once more. 

 

“It was about a year after you died, and I wasn’t entirely sure if I should even try.” She tucks a hair behind her ear, “But I wanted to know he was alright.” 

 

“And?” Robin clenches against her fingers, his gaze burning into her, waiting. 

 

Regina beams, running a free hand through Robin’s hair, “He’s doing really great.” The smile he levels her with nearly knocks the breath from her lungs. His eyes flush with renewed tears, the crinkles in his eyes deepening. “He is? He’s okay? Happy?” 

 

“Yeah.” Regina chuckles wetly back, pressing a kiss to Robin’s cheek as he blows out a hard, relieved breath. “He just turned twenty six a few months back.” She grips his hand, “You have an amazing son. Honestly, he’s incredible. There is so much about him that is just like you. Wild,  still so sweet, adventurous, an outlaw in his own right.” 

 

Robin smirks at that. 

 

“John and I came to a decision after I found him that every summer Roland would come stay with me. And that when he was old enough he could decide where he wanted to live. He moved into my house about eight years ago, and we just found him his own place about two years back with a few friends.” 

 

“Regina, thank you.” The tears spill over Robin’s eyes, coursing down his cheeks as he wraps her up in a tight, fierce hug.

 

“There is nothing to thank me for.” She nuzzles into him further, carding through the hair at the back of his neck, “I love him like he is my own. We talked about you a lot. We still do.” 

 

“You do?” 

 

She hums with a nod, biting down on her bottom lip with a grin, “All the time.” 

 

“Only good things I should hope.” He smiles back. 

 

Regina chuckles, leans into Robin’s shoulder, “Oh, he knows how much of a pain in the ass you were when we first met.” 

 

“Oh!” Robin bumps into her playfully, “I was nothing but a charming gentleman.” 

 

“Mmmm, one who refused to stay out of my way, pestering me every chance you could.” 

 

“Yes well, what can I say, it was fun pushing your buttons.” 

 

“You were quite good at that.” Her brow cocks in jest, eyeing her soulmate up with a glint, “You were quite good at a lot of things.” 

 

He takes her bait, dips his chin down to capture her lips, pressing softly against her as a hand wraps around her back, securing them tightly together. He swallows the hum at the back of her throat, grinning into the kiss further. 

 

They part with a pop. 

 

“Thank you again Regina. I know you say I don’t have to say it, but I’ve been walking around this place for years, and knowing that Roland is happy--” He breathes in heavily, eyes fluttering shut as he smiles, “I feel lighter.” 

 

She sits back a touch, interlocking their fingers and bringing them to rest in her lap. She smiles up at him as he leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. 

 

Pulling back, he asks, “How’s my daughter?” 

 

“Bee’s great.” 

 

“Her name is Bee?” 

 

Regina chuckles, patting his cheek. “No, it’s a nickname I have. Zelena named her after you actually.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

Regina hums, deciding to not get into how her niece's name splintered her every time she heard it. 

 

“She is beautiful. Nearly nineteen. She has the brightest blue eyes just like you, long, sandy brown hair, dimples, has quite the knack for archery. I gave her your bow when she turned sixteen.” 

 

Robin beams at that. She has a part of him. They are connected. 

 

“Bee is… she’s her own person. Has a strength and guidance inside her that I don’t think many of us understand fully. She’s pure, but I think…” Regina blows out a breath, “I think not having her dad around in the beginning, she searched for a long time to figure out who she was.” 

 

He shrinks slightly at that, his brow creasing heavily. “I wish I knew her, that I was there to help her.” 

 

“You were though. I think that’s why she is who she is. Much like Roland, they both have this part of you that keeps them true and honest. Whether or not it’s the easiest path, they are very much their father’s children. They love fiercely. They are _ loved _ fiercely. ”

 

For a second Robin’s brow creases at that, a glimmer of paternal concern sparking in his eyes. “No boy will ever be good enough for my daughter.” 

 

Regina shakes her head with a breathless laugh, “Over protective daddy much.” 

 

“She’s my little girl. She shouldn’t be allowed to date, ever, in my opinion. Do me a favor, torch any boy who even thinks he is good enough for her.” He grins mischievously, though Regina catches the honesty underneath the jest. 

 

“I don’t think we have to worry about boys per se.” 

 

Robin’s gaze narrows curiously, scans Regina’s face as she smiles, bringing their interlocked hands up to her lips and pressing a feather light kiss to his knuckles, “She has a girlfriend.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

“Alice is… sweet. A bit outside the box, but they are good for each other. Adventurous enough but they ground one another. You’d like her.” 

 

“If she has your blessing then I am happy they have one another. Love is important.”

 

“You’re right. It is.” She blinks back the burn of tears, thumbing over his scruff for a quiet moment. “I’ve missed you.” 

 

“And I you.” He leans into her palm, presses a chaste kiss to her hand. “You’ve given me everything I could have ever wanted.” He sighs, “But it’s not your time Regina, you need to go back.” 

 

She frowns, drops her hand from his face and into her lap, “I could stay. With you. I could let go. Our kids will be fine.” 

 

“You’re probably right,” Robin concedes, reaching to lace her hands into his own once more. “But they still need you Regina. They need their mother.” 

 

She doesn’t disagree with him, but she doesn’t want to let him go either, feeling literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Exhaling heavy, she leans into his shoulder, letting her eyes flutter shut, listening to the rhythmic breathing rolling through him. 

 

He feels… peaceful. 

 

He deserves to have that. 

 

She can help him get it. 

 

Regina stands then, stretching her hand out to his. “Come on,” she murmurs, pulling him up and tucking his hand into her own. 

 

He follows quietly.

 

They make their way, hand in hand, through the trees toward the cave. Every step has her throat tightening, a lump forming high in her chest. 

 

As she steps into the cave, Robin right behind her, she’s hit with a wave of emotions. She’s torn, conflicted knowing her children still need her, and she isn’t ready to give up on them yet, but it’s Robin, she wants to stay with him. 

 

It dawned on her as they talked about their children that him searching for answers that they were all okay is the exact same reason why she is here -  _ he _ is her unfinished business. The guilt of how he died, regardless of how heroic and unselfish it was, it ate away at her for years, and worse, she never knew if he was able to cross over, be in that better place everyone seeks in the end, if he was able to find peace in the afterlife. 

 

She squeezes his hand, smiling softly at the way he presses a kiss to her temple. He feels different the closer they get to the bridge. The memories of her parents moving on creep into her mind. They felt this way too, this strange, ethereal buzzing. 

 

Robin stops, pulls on her hand to bring her back to him. They’re almost to the edge of the stone cliff, and she knows the light will appear any moment now. Regina turns, finding his eyes shining wetly. “Robin?”

 

He smiles and pulls her into his arms again, kissing her hard instead of answering her question. She meets him equally, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers carding through the short hairs at the base of his scalp. Robin pulls back, runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of hers, dotting a line of petal soft kisses to the apple of her cheek, with a whispered  _ I love you _ spilling from his lips.

 

“I love you, too,” she breathes back, shifting to catch his lips once more, chaste and gentle. 

 

His hands run up and down her back, into the curve of her waist and over her arms, swooping around and over again. A calm, feathered warmth heats her back. The light, white glow illuminates his features - the brightness of his eyes and the slight silver of his hair.

 

“You ready?” She smiles, regardless of the tears that build. He nods imperceptibly, a slight frown in his brow as he pulls her hands up to his lips, kissing each palm. “Come on.” She leads them to the edge, Robin’s face easing in tension as the light surrounds him. 

 

“I think I can see the forest.” He sighs, relieved. 

 

Standing beside him, hands clutching his own, she turns, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as the tears build. She isn’t sure of the rules down here. She is technically dead, could very easily walk into that light with him and be together for eternity, but she isn’t sure if she has fully passed on just yet. The magic here is tricky, she remembers that, and she’d never want to risk messing up his chance at eternal peace by trying to go with him. 

 

The thought of having to say goodbye clenches at her heart, making those tears she’s been holding back fall down her cheeks. “I’m not ready to let you go,” her confession whimpering out, fractured and dejected. Robin turns, pulling her softly into his arms. She breathes him in, tears wetting the collar of his jacket, whispering how much she loves him. 

 

Robin pulls back, tears on his cheeks as well now, and smiles sympathetically down at her. He reaches up, wiping a tear from her face and cupping her cheek. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes for the briefest of seconds, trying to memorize the feel of him again. 

 

“Regina,” he says soothingly. “You have to go back. Our children always comes first.” 

 

She squeezes her eyes shut, tears spilling out as she swallows heavily against the burn in her chest. 

 

He’s right, she knows he is, but it doesn’t stop the crumbling feeling of her heart. “I know,” she whispers sadly, “but I’m going to miss you so much.”

 

The joy of seeing him again, knowing he’s alright, helps, but she’s going to miss him even more now. 

 

“I love you so much, Robin.”

 

“And I love you, Regina,” he says, caressing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I always have.” 

 

She sniffs pitifully, eyeing up the white light in front of them. It won’t last forever, at least she doesn’t think it will, and isn’t exactly akin to taking that chance. “You should go,” she mumbles, nodding but not really hearing her own voice, rather preferring to soak in every last second with him. 

 

“When you’re ready, I’ll be there.” 

 

Her smile barely reaches her eyes as she tries to quiet the voice inside her mind saying she’s ready now, because he’s right; their kids still need her, and they will find each other again, when the timing is right. When she is supposed to move on, he will be there waiting. 

 

“You promise?”

 

Robin chuckles, that deep laugh she’s missed so much, and assures her, “I promise.”

 

She nods, taking a deep, calming breath and stepping back from his embrace. She wipes the tears off of her cheeks and takes his hands in hers. He looks over toward the light, and she brings herself back to reality. 

 

“Go,” she laments, pulling him to her one last time. She presses her lips to his, their tears mixing together, bittersweet and salty. “Be at peace Robin.”

 

He kisses her harder, holds her tight for a long second before pulling back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. He smiles, bumps his nose gently to her own, a secret unspoken affection between them she’d always adored. 

 

Laughing breathily at the memory, she steps back, uncaring to wipe the tears now and gives his hands one last squeeze. “I’ll see you again.” 

 

“I’ll be waiting my love. Always.” 

 

He lets go of her hands and walks toward the light. She smiles through her tears as his form slowly fades, accepting him, welcoming him home. 

 

He’s finally at peace. 

 

Something in her gut tugs hard, a spinning dizziness in her brain as blackness consumes her mind. It pulls harder, buzzes in her ears as she falls through blank space and time, a weight in her chest beginning to deepen, crushingly tight with every second. It’s blindingly painful, steals her breath, choking the air out of her lungs. Perhaps she doesn’t get to move on like Robin did. Perhaps this is how villains live in the eternal afterlife - repenting for the sins with everlasting anguish. 

 

“Mom? Mom, wake up!” 

 

Her eyes flutter, blink slowly open, squint in the harsh, bright light bursting from the ceiling. 

 

“Mom? Can you hear me?” 

 

A soft hand grabs her own, stroking gently over her knuckles as she fights off the fog in her brain. “Mom, it’s us.” 

 

She turns, grimaces at the heaviness still lingering in her chest, but she’s met with a pair of bright, chestnut brown eyes. 

 

“Roland?” 

 

“You’re okay?!” 

 

She’s smothered in seconds, his body wrapping around hers tightly as his shoulders shake, a hard swallowed,  _ I thought we lost you,  _ muffled into her neck. Hugging her one son, she feels her hand being squeezed by another, hazel gaze leveling into view.

 

“You should not have done that,” Henry huffs with a scowled smile. 

 

“I’m your mother Henry, I wasn’t going to just let you die.” 

 

“I know, but I’d like to keep us both around if that’s alright with you.” 

 

A laugh bubbles out of her as Roland shifts, helping her up so she can hug her eldest boy.

 

“How did you get me back?”

Henry shrugs, runs a hand through his hair and flicks his eyes over to Roland, who looks equally stunned. “Bee did it.” He turns, shifts enough so Regina can see her niece standing dumbfounded on the spot, staring down at her open palms in shock. 

 

“I have no idea how I did it.” The young girl stammers, “All I know is that I thought I was going to lose you and I’ve lost my dad and I just - I wasn’t ready to give up that connection to him - to give you up  - none of us were - I still need you - Henry and Roland - they just touched me and my magic went crazy.” 

 

Regina moves, lacing Bee’s hands in her own, smiling wetly before wrapping her arms around her. “Thank you.” 

 

“Don’t ask me to do it again cause I won’t know how.” Bee chuckles in disbelief, shaking her head as Roland and Henry slide on either side of she and Regina. 

 

Henry presses a kiss to Regina’s temple, blowing out a much relieved breath as Regina too sighs. “Let’s go home, I have something to tell all of you.” She ignores their curious, cocked brows, tries to not smile at the matching expression of Roland and Bee, one so similar to their father’s. She simply takes Henry’s arm, leans against his shoulder and lets him lead her home. 

 

It feels different. 

 

She feels different, lighter in the recesses of her heart. An invisible thorn, long stabbing through her, suddenly gone, the deep guttural guilt floating away, filled with a silent serenity in it’s place. 

 

He’s at peace. He’s okay. 

 

And she will be with him again. 

 

Fin.

 


	68. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the the series finale stills of Regina in chains and the fact we know Robin Hood makes an appearance.  
> I hope this does justice for our fandom. I have loved every second of our gorgeous ship and I truly hope that you enjoy this one shot.

 

 

She thought her sins had been repented for a thousand times over. After years of trying to change - owning up for the misdeeds and unkindness of a past life, becoming the hero everyone had needed - it still apparently wasn’t enough. Or at least to certain people it wasn’t, those still hell bent on anger and revenge for her. Hence why she is currently sitting in a cell, a heavy, thick chain cementing her ankles and wrists together.

 

Perhaps it’s for her own good - being a prisoner of someone else, spending the rest of her days silently atoning for more ill-fated decisions she’d made a lifetime ago. Maybe some choices aren’t worth forgiveness.

 

The cold press of stone against her back aches deep in her bones, a hardness that has her legs tingling painfully from lack of movement. Restriction. It’s all around her. Within her. Whatever these shackles hold within, it’s depleting her magic by the second. She can feel it. The weight of them pressing against her skin, rubbing it red and raw.

 

Her magic sparks but does not light. Flickers yet doesn’t flame. It reminds her of Greg, of being strapped down to a steel table, her brain on electrical fire. That should have killed her. She should have died then. Maybe things for those she loved would have turned out differently, better without her there.

 

Grimacing, she cracks her neck, arching against the wet stone. It’s damp, a chill that settles low in her muscles heightens the rumbling in her stomach. Days have gone by without anything more than a plate of stale bread thrown her way, and she will be damned before being forced to eat like some savage. She’s survived worse than this. But maybe she isn’t meant to survive any longer. Exhaustion is already seeping through her. A dryness in her throat inhibiting the ability to swallow. It would be so easy to just give in. Close her eyes and let her damaged heart finally stop beating.

 

Her mind drifts in and out of consciousness with the lolling of her head.

 

How easy it would be to let the darkness finally take over.

 

Maybe it will be peaceful, death. Letting herself sink into the afterlife. Hopefully she won’t feel anything. No gasping of breath, no painful squeezing of her heart being crushed to dust in someone’s hand. Just ethereal stillness that hugs her warm, takes her by the hand and guides her into that place everyone seeks in the end.

 

“You shouldn’t be thinking like that.”

 

Her eyes jolt open, immediately shutting with a blinding brightness long deprived. Swallowing thickly, she shakes her head, frowning at the voice she swore was just there. Her fingers burn from the shackles cutting off the blood supply, fumbling against each other in a weak grasp. The chains clink, jingle and jostle for a moment in her closed darkness. She hisses against the sting of pain as the momentarily tighten around her wrists before falling completely free. Her hands drop to her lap, burning with red rawness. If only her damn magic was working she could fix this, be rid of the pain for at least a moment’s time.

 

She licks her lips, swallows hard as her wrists roll over, cracking and popping before something soft caresses over the damaged skin. A gentle grasp that soothes instantaneously. One she sighs into gratefully. Perhaps death has released her of the chains.

 

“You’re not dead.”

 

It’s there again, that voice. Ghosting around her as she scowls at its words. Why can’t she be? Would that really be so horrible? She wrenches her hands away from the calm grip, hugging them to her chest as she feebly scrambles away from the light and back into the dark. Dark is easy, she knows the darkness. It’s the light that makes her nervous. It always has. It reaches for her again, lands on her thigh, spreading that gentle heat throughout her again.

 

She shifts away from it, a bit too quick as the back of her head smacks hard into the stone wall behind her. A whimper escapes alongside the sharp bite of pain ricocheting in her skull. Death isn’t pleasant she decides, it’s a hateful bitch.

 

A chuckles snickers in front of her. A smug little thing she frowns at. But at the same time, her heart flickers, she knows that light laugh. The sound of it ingrained into her very being. It’s _his_ laugh. Which is impossible unless she actually is dead, in some afterlife where death toys with the strings in her heart.

 

“You know, if you’d just open your eyes this would be much easier, my love.”

 

Everything freezes. She freezes. Her body turning stone cold even as the warmth of a soft touch grazes up her forearm, over the round of her shoulder, up to cup her jaw, settling lightly there. She breathes in against it. Leans heavily into the gentle swiping along her cheekbone.

 

“Come on now, don’t be stubborn.”

 

She hears his smile. Feels it more than anything.

 

Slowly she does, against every fiber of her pessimistic selfthat revolts against leaning into hope and cracks her eyes open. Blinks twices against the light that fuzzes out the silhouette in front of her, and then he is just there. Smiling as he always had.

 

“There you are.”

 

She wants to say something, his name would be a good start, but everything seems so surreal. The horrid blue glow last time she saw him is gone. He looks almost real, save for the soft, yellow light that simmers gently over his form, highlighting the speckles of silver in his hair, the ring of sapphire blue around his eyes. He looks... ethereal.

 

His hands roam along her thigh, down her calf before jingling the cuff there. “You know, if you’d paid attention all those times I tried to teach you how to break loose of such constraints, perhaps you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” He grins, bites down on his smile as his eyes flick up to hers once more.

 

He’s right.

 

The comment bubbles in her stomach over memories of the missing year, the two of them sitting on the balcony chaise, her back against his bare chest, she scowling down at the lock in her hands that refuses to pop open with the pin he’d given her. She’d lamented that there was no point in such trivial things when she had her magic, which almost makes her laugh now, sitting in a dark, wet cell without her said defence to aide her.

 

The latch clicks open, thunks with an echo against the stone ground. She frowns at the ache in her ankle, hisses at the initial contact of Robin’s palm that moves to cup her leg gently, massaging at the base of her limb till the tension runs out of her body and she sags gratefully against the wall behind her. “Just one more okay?”

 

She nods, still hasn’t said anything but stare at him, debating if she is hallucinating or this is real. Which in all reality, it can only be the first, as much as she wishes it could be the latter. He works quickly, nimble fingers jiggling a slender pin into the lock space till it too pops open, giving her the freedom she’d been unable to give herself.

 

Quietly he takes the chain off her, leans in close enough his breath puffs against her cheek as he slides the contraption from around her waist and tosses it to the side with a reverberating clang.

 

Regina watches as he scowls at the offending metal for a moment, a flicker of anger running across his features before he turns back to her, hands still gently roaming along her forearms, down to her palms and back up. Tentatively she reaches for him, lets her fingers dance along the collar of the white cotton shirt, thumbing the fabric with a shaky hand as she swallows hard and heavily against the burn of tears building behind her lashes. Her brow cinches at the yellow glimmer along his skin, warm to the touch though her palms fall straight through it’s glow.

 

She tries to find her voice then, but it comes out as nothing more than a cracked groan against the dryness in her throat. The strain has Robin frowning once more, reaches beside him for a satchel of water that wasn’t there before. He moves, cups the back of her head and tips it up to her lips, stroking at the base of her skull as she drinks greedily for long seconds before sighing back, leaning heavy into his palm as he wipes a bead of water dripping down her chin.

 

“Are you real?” she whispers out finally. He smiles, resting the water bag beside them, and moves to cup her cheeks, ensuring that she can do nothing but be held by his gaze. Her fingers wrap around his wrists, around his tattoo beneath the cotton shirt as she sighs with a shake of her head, “You can’t be real.” She sinks, deflates into herself, into his chest, closing her eyes as tears betray her and slide down. It aches, more than superficial metal burns and stiff bones.

 

Robin shifts, sits back a fraction, enough to tip her chin back up to meet his eyes, her own red rimmed and watery in doubt. He thumbs away a tear, “And why is that?” She shakes her head, sniffs hard, before letting this illusion cloud her judgement enough that she is smoothing her fingers along the lines of his face - over the dimples hidden beneath the scruff, the slight down turn of his lips, and beneath his eyes as he sighs into her touch.

 

“I watched you die.”

 

He sinks for a moment.

 

“You died standing in front of me.” Her breath hitches, catches and shakes as the tears run wildly down her cheeks. “You were there one second and gone the next.” Sorrow settles heavily between them, sinks and burns hot as she runs her fingers through his hair, “I tried to bring you back.”

 

He doesn’t quite meet her eyes, instead focuses on a curl around her jaw, thumbing it gently as he sits down with her thighs drawn across his legs. Her tears well once more when he laces their hands together with a long exhale.

 

“Regina, I never want--”

 

“I’m so angry with you.” She cuts him off sharply, though her voice trembles. “I never wanted you to do that for me. To die for me.” It begins to boil in her stomach, the memory of that night in her office, the last time she ever saw him, felt him. For years she’d tamped it away. This hot frustration for what happened. “I never wanted that. And it makes me so aggravated that you just decided to leave me, to leave Roland, our family, without even thinking.” Her tears fall angrily as she wipes them away quickly.

 

He peers up, a crinkle in his brow as he tilts his head to the side with a slight shrug, “I can’t apologize for it.”

 

Angered exasperation floods her at his words. The bubble in her chest pulsing at the feeling of his hands on her thighs, stroking gently at the denim. “Which is why I am so angry with you! You didn’t think about what you were doing.”

 

Robin huffs, squeezes her leg with a deadpanned heavy gaze back at her, “Actually that’s all I thought about.”

 

“Robin, you weren’t thinking!”

 

He turns, shifts slightly to face her more squarely, “I knew exactly what I was doing, Regina.” His hands reach up to cup her cheeks, thumbing away the tears that stain her cheeks, “I knew what was going to happen.”

 

She doesn’t much care about crying in front of him, he’s seen it all before. “Then why the hell did you step in front of me?”

 

He sighs, bringing her hands up to his lips with a soft confessed; “Because.”

 

“That’s not an answer.” Regina snaps, uncaring at the slight flinch it sends through him.

 

“I wasn’t going to watch you die Regina. I couldn’t.” He shakes his head, gripping her hands tighter, “I’m sorry for leaving you like that, but you have to understand there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let you die.”

 

He’s so bloody infuriating. Down to his very core. This noble heroic man irritates her to the deepest part of her core. She says nothing, huffs out a sad wet breath instead. He doesn’t understand. Seeing him, being in that moment where she froze and he sprung into a stupid decision that cost her everything. It clenches her heart tight. The guilt. Guilt over the fact she did nothing but stand there like a statue and let him die. For years she’s gone over that moment. The second she saw Hades raise the crystal and Robin leapt in front of her.

 

She is angry with him. She is. But sitting here, with him, however real he may be right now, it stirs something she had long avoided to confront. Her anger isn’t directed at Robin, pain and sorrow, yes, a longing to have those precious few seconds back where she could have saved them, saved him, but the anger that boils in her stomach takes a knowingly inward turn.

 

She froze, and he died. She failed him, failed herself in the minute he needed her most.

 

Her magic should have been their saving grace. But staring death in the face, it stole all her thought process, rendered her nothing more than frightened prey when her entire life she has done everything to be the predator.

 

Dejection runs through her as she exhales wetly, “I asked you to not get in my way.”  It’s barely above a strained whisper through shaky lips as she curls her legs into her chest, some feeble attempt to find security in a damaged guilt ridden heart.

 

“It wasn’t your fault.” He tugs her back gently, unravelling her arms around her shins.

She goes willingly into his arms, of course he knows what she is thinking. He always had. His arms wrap around her shoulders, a leg shifting behind her so she sits between his thighs, a hand coming up to cradle her head to his chest. Regina sniffs, curls into him tighter, “You’re so stubborn. So stupid and stubborn.”

 

He presses a soft kiss to the curls of her hair, running a palm up and down her back gently, chuckling quietly with another kiss against her hair, “I could say the same about you.”

 

“I am not.” She scoffs into his linen shirt, though her lips part into a slight smile.

 

“No, you just refused to learn how to pick a lock.”

 

Her eyes find the chains tossed beside them, crumpled into the dirt. Turning away from the restraints, she buries her head into his chest, leaning into his heart beat steadily thumping away under her palm. It feels good, having this feeling back. Tucked away in his arms, his warmth settling into her core. The yellow glow of his skin simmers away as she toys with his free hand in her lap. “Are you some figment of my imagination?”

 

He shifts, leaning back a fraction to tip her head up, “Does it feel that way?” For a long moment she simply stares at him, at the bright cerulean blue of his eyes, the creases at the corners, a speckling of grey in his scruff. Her fingers move to card through his hair at the nape of his neck, the other sliding to his jaw.

 

His lips meet hers as she tilts towards him. The second they touch, she feels it in every fibre of her soul, an ethereal peace that seeps through her. He’s soft, gentle as always in his affection as he holds her to him, delicately tasting her lips with gentle presses and pulls of his mouth on hers, a flick of his tongue against her lips. She loved this. These quiet reserved moments that passed between them. So few and far between, stolen much too soon. She whispers softly against his lips, “No, it doesn’t,” a smile breaking against her cheeks as they pop apart.

 

She has missed this. Kissing him. Feeling his hands hold her, the scratch of his stubble against her cheeks as his lips move to dot affection to her nose, one to her temple before he rests his forehead against her own. Perhaps they don’t have to lose this again. If this is supposed to be some strange in between for her, a limbo cutting through life and death, maybe it would be okay if she chose him, had the choice to stay with him.

 

The thought softens her. They could be together again. She hums quietly, licking her lips with trepidation as she whispers, “Maybe--”

 

“Regina. I’m going to stop you right there.” He stops her resolutely. Pulling back to find her eyes, the bittersweet hope swirling within them. “You’re not dying today.” She deflates against him, slumping down till her head rests against his collarbone. “Why not?” It sounds pitiful, the way her voice saddens.

 

Robin sighs and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Because you are supposed to die an old lady, with grey hair and wrinkles, asleep in her bed. Not here.”

 

“Wrinkles?” She frowns, tipping her head up to meet his grin.

 

“Yes my love. Lots of them.” His thumb swipes across her cheekbone to the corner of her eyes, “Laugh lines from all the years you still have to live. All the grandbabies that will need you to guide them.”

 

“You were supposed to be there with me,” she mumbles dismally. They were supposed to have all those things together. A life ahead of them. There had been so many nights she’d laid in bed beside him, listening to the soft puffs of sleep escaping him, her mind wandering into what the future had in store. Perhaps there would have been more children, ones that looked just like him running through the house in a stampede of giggles. Or maybe not. Maybe they had all the love life bestowed on them already. It wouldn’t have mattered to her anyway. She had him, they had their children, and that would be enough for her.

 

“I know.” She feels Robin sag against her, pulling her back from the momentary daydream, “And for that I am sorry. It was always my intention to be with you through it all.” It soaks into her, his words, the truth and honesty between them. But life isn’t always so kind to grant those wishes. She knows that, has lived through it time and time again.

 

“You’d have been a great grandfather.” He smiles into her hair, “I appreciate that. And a loving husband.” Regina chuckles, sits up straighter to find his eyes once more, her brow arched playfully high, “A stubborn one.” His grin grows, the peek of his tongue wetting his lip before he bites down on the smile, “But a husband nonetheless?” She kisses him, kisses his smile and all the memories they should have shared. “That was always my intention.”

 

He inhales against her lips, presses against her once more, drawing the affection out as long as he can, “You know that I--” Her fingers move to his mouth, stealing his words before he can finish. “I know.” She smiles through new tears, “I know you did...that you do.”

 

Robin’s brow cinches together for a moment, a flicker of desperation running through his eyes, “Let me say it.” His voice pleads quietly between them as Regina smiles wetly, “You don’t have to.”

 

“I realize that.” He tilts down to rest his forehead against her own. “But it’s important that I do.”

 

“There you go being stubborn again.” Her grin widens as she melts into his palm on her cheek, blinking up at him softly as she nods slightly, her heart blooming in her chest as he finally lets his frown go, softening out into a dimpled half grin. He takes a long second to simply look at her, his gaze roaming over her features, fingers scratching gently at the base of her head. The bubble in her chest swells, a touch impatient in waiting, crackles and bursts as his eyes brim with slight wetness over the fact they are finally getting to have this moment, one that both knew never need happen until it was too late.

 

“I love you, Robin.” It fumbles out of her before he gets the chance. A light laugh skipping out as she bites back her smile with a shake of her head. He matches her grin, rolls his eyes playfully at her impatience. “I love you, too.”

 

He was right, it feels good to say it and to hear it back. It has her heart clenching when he swoops back down to bus her lips once more. How many times she could have said it before? Should have said it. All those moments where she knew how she felt and yet simply relied on him just knowing the confessions of her heart. How wrong she was to withhold that from him. To deny them both this opportunity. This moment aches her just as much as it lightens her soul.

 

She pulls back from his lips, scours his face though he smiles unbeknownst to her turmoil. “Are you okay?” Her fingers find his own with a gentle squeeze.

 

“What do you mean?” His brow cocks curiously.

 

“Wherever you are, are you fine?”

 

He takes a moment, chews on her question with a soft hum before answering tenderly. “I am. It’s peaceful.” It stills her, holds the hope she had that he was indeed alright in a tight grasp, the creeping doubt clawing to intervene.

 

“Did Hades lie about your soul?”

 

Robin nods, grins mischievously as he adjusts them against the wall, his back to the stone, hers against his chest as he dips down to whisper in her ear, “He was a villain down to the core, a liar through and through.” Regina sighs gratefully, a heavy guilt that lifts away from her heart, “Thank God. Are you in... on the other side then?”

 

She feels him nod behind her, his chin resting in the nook of her shoulder, “In a heaven of sorts, yes.” His lips find her skin chastely, “I have had the privilege of meeting your parents.” The groan that parts is almost embarrassing as she sags into him, anchoring herself to his body with his hands wrapped about her waist.

 

“Your father is a wonderful man.”

 

Regina smiles at that, at the idea that they have met. Her father would have adored Robin, that she has always been certain of. They are soft souls, the two of them. The gentle kind to contrast her own hardness. Speaking of hard, she recoils with a tight, “And my mother?”

 

The puff of laughter shivers against her skin as Robin ducks his face down into her hair with a light snicker, “It took her sometime to warm up to me, let’s just say.” Regina rolls her eyes, picturing the expression surely painted across her mother’s face upon meeting her daughter’s outlaw’d soulmate, not exactly royalty as Cora always demanded, “I can only imagine.”

 

She feels him smile against her skin, soaks in the way his hand lays flat on her abdomen, stroking lightly at the soft material there. Resting heavier against his chest, she sighs into him, turning to lay her temple just below his jaw and smirking at the scratch of stubble on her skin, a feeling she has missed for years.

 

“I’ve also met Daniel.”

 

“You have?” Her brow raises high.

 

“He and I have much in common, aside from our affections for a certain brunette.” Robin grins, bumps her nose with his own, quickly kissing her lips once more before leaning back against the stone, playing with her fingers as he goes.

 

“Can you tell them that I love them, that I miss them?”

 

“They know Regina. But I will of course relay the message.”

 

She nods, leans into him, feeling a little bit more steady in her heart. Whether this is real or a dream, it’s given her some semblance of peace, an ease that settles over her and hunkers down deep. They are all okay. He is okay. It’s what she needed to know. “So what happens now?”

 

“Well,” Robin hugs her a touch tighter, “My time is just about up here, borrowed and all as it is.”

 

Regina sighs sadly, turning her eyes up to meet his, soft and warmly looking down at her, “You have to leave?” He half nods, “In a way, I suppose,” and tucks a stray curl behind her ear as her eyes close dimly, leaning into the heat of his palm on her cheek.

 

“I wish you could stay.”

 

“You know that I am waiting for you.”

 

She frowns bitterly up at him, “Then why not just let me come now?” It’s a whimpered huff she lets go when he tells her that it’s not her time. Not even his sweet smile soothes the flicker of dismay in her stomach at the idea of leaving him again. “It could be,” she glowers back pitifully.

 

Robin ponders her for a quiet moment, “I think you don’t really want it to be.”

 

“What makes you think you know me so well?”

 

He grins at that. At the words she once said to him all those years ago. A lifetime ago it feels like for the both of them - when things seemed so brand new, a curiosity between them yet to flourish into something deeper, a connection far more profound than he’d ever anticipated to find.

 

“You’re a fighter Regina. You always have been.”

 

She turns her eyes away from him at that, fumbles gingerly with his hands in avoidance. It’s cute, he decides. Her stubbornness that fights against the innate need for compassion and love within her. Tipping her chin back up to meet him, he smiles softly, wipes away the newly formed tears on her lashes, “And your family needs you. Giving up on them isn’t something you do.”

 

She sinks, nods sad, yet knowingly, that he is right. “I know. I just miss you.” Her sniff tugs at his heart strings, there is so much he wishes he could give her, to be able to protect her once more, love her like she deserves, a lifetime full of it.

 

“You need to go.” He finally exhales after a long few quiet seconds, understanding that his time is fading, and she needs to make this decision for herself, to choose survival. Her nod is dejected, though she doesn’t move from his hold, leans back into him till his chin rests once more on her shoulder.

 

“You’ll wait?” she asks quietly, swallowing back the bubble in her chest that this is coming to an end.

 

He hugs her tight, kisses her cheek softly, “I promise.”

 

“You better.” She laughs wetly with a shake of her head, turning her shoulders enough to face him one last time. He chuckles quietly, leans his forehead to her own one last time, relishing the feeling of her fingers scratching through his stubble.

 

Tamping down the urge to cry, she tips her lips up to his, meeting his descent halfway.

 

It’s wet. This last kiss. Her tears falling on their own accord as he presses into her, cupping her cheeks so gently as though he fears she may break. She lingers, pulls and sucks against his lips, begging her mind to save this moment forever. It’s not a goodbye. She knows that. As hard as letting him go again is, there is hope at the end of the tunnel for them.

 

“I love you.”

 

Robin smiles, kisses her once more before bringing her hands up to his lips, squeezing them tightly, “I love you too.”

 

Her mind fuzzes out, sweeping back into the darkness as Robin’s hands fade from her grasp, his warmth fading out with him. Stirring, her eyes crack open, and he is gone. A sob leaves her as she leans into the concrete wall where his body just was. It’s cold, wet and solid behind her. She arches away from it, hisses when the chains tug at her wrists, rubbing the raw, damaged skin below.

 

Scowling, she pulls against it angrily. I, it was a dream. The shackles still dig into her skin, locked tightly together. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. It sinks heavily into her. Heavier than the damp chill of this ridiculous dungeon that holds her captive. A sharp prick stings at her wrist, unlike the chafing of metal that bites against her skin. Groaning at the sensation, she flips her hand over, her heart nearly doubling over at the sight of Robin’s pin in her palm.

 

Tears flourish quickly as she twirls it between her fingers, a wet half cry half laugh echoing out into the cell as she presses it to her lips. He was here. It was real. He asked her to choose life, promised that at the end of hers, he would be waiting. Warmth settles into her heart as she tugs the lock between her wrists up, angles the pin down into the contraption and does exactly what she had watched him do all those years ago in her castle. On nights when he bemused her that she wasn’t paying attention, if he only knew, though her words said otherwise, she silently watched every single move he made.

 

The lock pops open, clangs to the ground hard. Her ankles are next, quick to freedom as they too click open with a few practiced moves of the pin in her fingers. She tosses the chain to the side and exhales deep against the cold stone behind her, Robin’s pin still tucked in her grasp.

 

She misses him. She always will. But he asked her to survive, and she resoundly decides that is exactly what she will do - for him, for their family, and for herself. He is there, waiting, and she will get back to him when the timing is right.

 

Her magic swirls around her, leaving behind nothing but a crumpled up ball of metal that held a prisoner, one who had been sparse with hope, and yet found a new reason to live.

 

The End.

 

  
  
  



	69. He Who Greets Us In The End.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An idea that perhaps Robin waits in the tavern for Regina and comes across some familiar faces (post series finale)

 

He waits.

Every day at the same wooden table, the same mug of ale, within the same stone walls and dimly lit candles. He sits, and he waits. Time means nothing here. There is no sun that rises and falls, no days that slowly tick by to count. It’s suspended here. And he waits every day. Listens for the chiming of the tavern door, the signal that another soul is crossing over. It’s what he does now, is the first person they see, the one who guides them gently to the other side.

There are a few other  _ patrons _ of this particular tavern.

A lonely quiet woman with long white blonde hair, soft spoken and piercing blue eyes, who had been here before Robin passed, still waiting for her two sisters. An elderly man in red draped robes, who hums quietly to himself with green eyes that watch the door in hopes his son will walk through next. Robin has spent many a night talking to another man, one around his age, died from a plaguing disease in the Enchanted Forest. He never had the chance to meet his baby girl, his lungs had given out the same night his little girl took her first breath. He waits for his family. Others wait for a loved one. One oddly older woman who slouches in a corner alone, riddled in diamonds and cigarette smoke, apparently waiting for her cats - Robin has yet to venture over to her.

The others though, he knows their stories, has sat at length with them individually, wishing them good fortune as their missing pieces finally walk through the tavern door and together they cross over into the light.

It’s a bittersweet thing to him. This strange place of purgatory where one stays, rests and lingers in wait. You wait for someone to die. For their life to have ended in one realm, and to be reunited in another with those who had passed before them. There is an odd flicker of hope that pulses in his heart every time the door chimes, one that is fast replaced by dense guilt when dismay soaks through him that it is not  _ her _ who glides in.

He wants her here. Selfishly perhaps, but he misses her with every beat of his heart. And yet - if she does walk through that door it means her life has come to a close, and that thought pains him more than the longing does. She deserves life. A happy one, filled with love, compassion and peace. He hopes every day that she has found those things, sometimes on the loneliest of hours here he finds himself wondering if the memory of him has faded from her mind.

He doesn’t truly believe it though, knows it’s just the wistful pining talking.

As the time passes, and the door chimes over and over again, Robin has found himself looking into the eyes of familiar faces.

Tuck had been the first, older and lighter grey spattered around a balding head. He had smiled at his friend, wrapped him in a warm hug before they’d settled down at Robin’s table. It had been the drink. Too much rye over a lifetime that had wormed a disease into the old parishes liver. He’d brushed it off, saying it was all worth it - fuzzy memories as they are to him now, he lived a good life, was more than happy to leave his old rickety bones and aged exhaustion behind.

It has been a short passing. Tuck’s wife had passed decades ago and he’d been waiting to get back to her. He wished his friend peace, walked him to the door on the other side of the tavern, patted his shoulder as the light swarmed around him, guiding Tuck by the hand and into the place where everyone hopes to end up when it’s all said and done.

It had been Lady Lucas next. Much to Robin’s surprise her grey blue eyes had watered the second she saw him, a short curt smile sniffed back as she crutched her way on a cane over to him, crushing him tight to her. He had always been a fan of the old werewolf, the fierceness she had, sharp tongued remarks and quick retorts. In many ways Robin saw much of Regina in Lady Lucas. They had spent many an afternoon bantering at her diner while he waited for Regina to meet him for lunch. The old woman would tease that the blush that would flush his cheeks at the mention of Regina’s name, his inability to sit still as he waited and waited to hear her heels clicking up the steps. Granny knew even back in the Enchanted Forest of Robin’s fondness for the Queen, there wasn’t much he could get past her keen intuition.

It’s much to Robin’s surprise however when not short after Granny had huffed her way into the tavern that she smiles, a bright beaming thing as the old carpenter walked through the door with a tip of his hat in her direction. They embraced, bumped noses with a chuckle, a gently bestowed kiss from Geppetto to Granny’s white curled hair.

Seems love doesn’t have a bias on age.

He wanted to ask about  _ her _ , if she was alright, where she was. But every time there had been a slight lull in their conversation, Robin’s throat tightened. He had this picture in his mind, her life painted in front of him. A hope that perhaps she was sitting on a park bench, watching her grandchildren play on the swings, her laugh echoing through the trees, a family that surrounded her, loved her, cherished her. If the reality was different, Robin wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Maybe ignorance is bliss.

They’d crossed over together, Granny’s hand finding Robin’s with a gentle squeeze and a knowing smile. It was enough for him to know that Regina was alright, at least in some capacity. The old woman wouldn’t lie to him. He holds onto her smile, onto the flicker of ease it brings him as he moves back to his table, swings his legs over the bench and begins his wait once more.

It felt like an eternity. He’s watched countless others be reunited, that enamoring moment of pure love pouring out between two people as they embrace, most have tears that fall, smiles that could crack even the hardest of hearts wide open. The old man’s son had come through. The lady in the white gown both her sisters had followed not long after. Even two out of three cats had found their way back to their diamond slathered owner.

Still he sat waiting.

At the same table, bent over the same bench, swallowing down the same ale.

The door chimes again, and his heart breaks at her eyes. Meadow green and that gentle smile. She is older now, silver painted hair, short as he remembers it to be, many more wrinkles and creases carved through cotton creme skin. She had hugged him tight, held back her tears as best as she could, but the princess had never been very good at stealing her emotions.

“It’s nice to see a familiar face.” Snow weeps quietly against his tunic, blowing out a hard breath as she steps back with a bittersweet smile. His brow cocks high in amusement at the comment, Snow’s eyes widening at the same moment as her hand flies to her mouth “Oh wow, I just meant -”

“It’s quite alright, no harm done.” He grins with a slight chuckle. Together they move to his table, Snow’s eyes wandering about the tavern curiously as Robin brings back two mugs of ale as they settle across from one another. True to form as he remembers the princess begins to talk. About everything and anything...except for Regina. He learns about their children, they had another boy a few years after Neal, a spry wild young boy they dubbed Benjamin. Both brothers now grown have families, babies, and are happily living in Storybrooke.

Robin nods where appropriate but mainly sips his ale as Snow recollects stories about Emma and Hook, their daughter Hope, how she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and sail the open seas - a notion that her savior mother hadn’t been quite as amendable too in the beginning. After months of back and forth fighting, the entire Jones family packed up and set sail, promising to return at some point, though Snow hadn’t seen her daughter in a few years.

He even learns about Henry, his wife Jacinda and their daughter Lucy and he gets lost in the picture of Regina being a grandmother. It swells in his heart, dances playfully and bounces about as he imagines her rocking a little baby back and forth, running around the mansion after a toddler, reading children’s books at night, her hair grey streaked, age lines creasing her eyes, but her smile would be the same, he knows that. She would be as beautiful as the day he met her. A little less hostile perhaps, but that depends on who is threatening her family.

He smirks to himself as Snow continues on, oblivious to his internal painting. He imagines her to be the grandmother that bakes cookies, throws the best birthday parties, and gives the best hugs. He remembers Roland saying that one night. Before Regina had allowed him to steal her heart in the missing year. Even then with the all the pain and loneliness that cloaked her, she still gave the best hugs. He also imagines Regina would be the type of grandparent young suitors would be mildly terrified of. What with the sharp draw of her brow as they knocked on the door to escort whatever grandchild she had out on a date. What he would give to be able to see her, to have lived that life with her.

Apparently, he’s gone utterly quiet, failing to comment on Snow’s stories for her hand moves to grasp his own. She smiles knowingly and his heart skids to a halt when she sighs softly, not releasing his hand.

“She has had a good life. Maybe not the one she thought was going to happen, but I think she has been happy.”

He shifts, swallows against the lump in his chest and waits for her to continue. It takes a long minute, something curious passing over Snow’s eyes that Robin isn’t sure he wants to pay too much attention too.  “I wish there was more I could have done for her. Been there a little more I suppose. Life with raising children is hectic.” She sighs, tears filling her eyes as she avoids his gaze. “Things changed after you….”

“After I died.”

Snow sniffs and nods out a wet  _ Yeah _ , taking a second to wipe away her tears as she chews on her lip. “I think for a long time she was really lonely.”

His eyes drop down to the mug of ale in front of him, a flare of anguish runs through his mind. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear about her. To hear about the sadness that shrouded her. He wants to picture her smile, not the lost pained look in her eyes he remembers so vividly. “Things happened, and I don’t think she has ever really let herself open up again.”

“Did she find someone who loved her?”

The question pops out before he can decide if he wants to know the answer. He does. His heart does. He needs to know that someone, some lucky man or woman got the chance to know what it felt like to be loved by her. It’s a feeling unlike any other.

Snow hums quietly, and finally smiles again. “She did.”  She gives him a look, a curious happy thing as she chuckles, tucking her hands back into her lap.

“Maleficent.”

It’s not a question. He knew of their past. Of the love the two women shared. It settles warm inside, fights off the bubble of sadness over the thought of Regina being alone. He’d met the dragon a few times, found himself rather intimidated by her, intrigued most certainly, but there was something in her bright blue eyes that followed his hands as they rested on Regina’s hips, protection. Silently she was telling him that should he fuck it up, hurt their mutual love in some irreparable way, he’d certainly find himself roasted like a pig on a spike.

“They are quite the pair.” Snow smiles, “Mal is good for her. They’ve gone through a lot together. She was there when I passed. For Regina’s sake I’m sure.” She smirks. Robin knows of Lily, of the Charming’s intertwined past with the Dragon and her child. Complicated to say the least.

“How was she?”

“The last time I saw her?”

He nods.

“She’s Regina.” Snow shrugs with a small smile. “Irritated with me to be honest.”

Robin’s brow furrows at that, though Snow waves his frown away. “I wasn’t supposed to go out riding, I’d been sick for a few months. My lungs. Cancer.” She grimaces, “Ugly thing to deal with. But I wanted some fresh air and I was rather stubborn about it.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” He grins thinking about his love.

Snow chuckles, nods in amused agreement, “I learned it from her I’m sure.”

“Anyway, I guess my body couldn’t handle the ride.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was worth it.” She smiles small.

They fall into a quiet silence, Snow fiddling with the hem of her dress for a long few moments. “She never loved anyone like she loved you. Not even Maleficent.”

Robin sighs with a heavy halfhearted smile. It aches him. Deep. Missing her. It clenches tight against his heart. Their story was so short. Their time together cut off far too soon. Not that it made it any less epic. But still, there was so much more they were supposed to do together. That crushes him. Perhaps it always will. Even though he knows he will see her again, that ache will never quite surrender it’s hold.

“I think I’m ready to go.” Snow stands, peering at the door on the far side of the tavern.

“What about David?”

“He will find me. He always does.” She smiles against her tears as Robin stands, shifting around the table to wrap her in an easy hug before guiding her to the door. The glow illuminates around her as she breathes a relieved breath. He waits, curious as she hesitates for a moment before turning back to him with a wondering gaze.

“Why do you not cross?”

He shrugs, smiles as he looks longingly back to the opposite end of the tavern.

“You’re waiting for her.”

“Always.”

Snow grips his hands, looks as though she is about to say something but decides against it, opting to give him one last squeeze of his palms before walking through and into the light.

He walks back slowly towards his table, sitting down heavily as her face swims into his mind as it has done a thousand times before. He lets it consume him as he begins his wait once more. He thinks about the first time he saw her laugh, a real breathless thing when Roland had conned her somehow into playing underneath the forest trees. He’d watched silently from a darkened wall as his son hid behind a tree, the Queen animatedly searching for the little boy. It was the first time he felt his heart stumble after her. The way she crouched around bushes, peering around the roses and swooping in to embrace his son in a tight hug as he squealed in delight. She had laughed, and Robin felt something he had given up a long time ago.

It memory fades into another, one where blush floods her cheeks as she hides a smile behind a glass of wine, a fire roaring in front of them. He’d kissed her till breath ran dry, put her heart back where it belonged and promised it would stay exactly there, never to be harmed again. He can feel the softness of her skin beneath his palm, the shiver that rippled through her when he crept a touch high on her thigh. Shyness fluttered around her features, something he hadn’t thought was possible for the once Evil Queen. It made his heart beat faster, pumping furiously in his chest when she smiled at him. He knew he loved her then. Had already fallen for her even before hearing they were destined to be together. He saw it in her eyes, the fear as she spoke of their fated love. The worry that maybe he didn’t feel the same way. It had become is goal to ensure she never ever questioned that he loved her for her and not some pixie dust, though it solidified his stance.

“Excuse me?”

He jolts back away from the memories to stare stunned up at a pair of cerulean blue eyes. She is young. This girl who stands before him. Could be no older than thirty. There is something familiar about her. Something strange in the auburn color of her hair, the slope of her nose and the small dimples in her cheeks.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Robin shakes out of his daze and stands, extending his hand out in greeting. She takes it slowly, eyeing him up with a curious gaze.

He smiles, reaches back to grab another mug of ale for the newest patron of this strange little tavern. She takes the cup with a grateful nod, sighing heavily as she sits down, peering around the stone walls. “You got anything stronger?” She chuckles, “Whiskey perhaps?”

Robin laughs, nods and roams the bar for a moment. “A lady who likes whiskey, a rare combination.”

“My aunt drinks it. I guess it’s just what I grew up to like I suppose.” She shrugs, blowing out a breath

“You aunt has good taste.” He hums setting two tumbles down on the table. The young woman laughs lightly, “I used to sneak it when she and my mom were out of the house.” She lifts her own glass up, clinking it against Robin’s before swallowing the whole thing back. Robin cocks a brow at her, fills up the glass with the spiced amber liquid.

“So, are you like the barkeep here or something?” Her eyes wander the room, over the other patrons in the establishment.

“I suppose in a way.” Robin nods. There is something peculiar about this woman. She is dressed in modern clothing he remembers Regina giving him, though she carries a quiver of arrows and a dark maple brown bow. He gestures towards it, asks if she is an archer, a question to which the girl smiles fondly, running her hands over the soft feathers on a shaft. “I try to be.”

“Where did you learn?” He questions.

She toys with her braid for a moment, “I kinda came naturally to be honest. My dad was an archer too.”

“He taught you?”

The girl shakes her head, licks her lips and focuses back on another gulp of whiskey. “He died when I was a baby. I never met him.” Robin’s brow cinches as he eyes up the bow, the flicker in his heart thuds hard against his ribs as he turns to look back at the young woman, back into her blue eyes that stare quizzically at him. “Do you know how to shoot?” She asks, clearly seeing his curiosity at her weapon. Robin blows out a long breath, “It’s been quite some time, but I do yes. Spent my entire life with a bow just like that strapped across my back.”

She flicks her gaze back down to the gift her aunt had given her so long ago. A sixteenth birthday present that came with tears and a bittersweet smile. “It was my dad’s.”

Robin swallows thickly, his throat swelling tight. It’s his bow. He knows it. The curve of the top blade, the black carving on the front. Tears well in his eyes. Regina kept it. Gave it to his daughter. This girl in front of him. It’s his baby girl.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” Her voice trembles across the table, “Robin Hood.”

He nods slightly, not sure what do really say, this wasn’t a conversation he thought he’d have the privilege to have, unfortunate given where they are but still, his heart hammers in his ears as he looks at the young woman, at his daughter. She looks so much like him.

“You’re my dad.” Her tears fall as she beams at him. “It’s you.”

It’s natural, innate the way he stands in a rush and hurries over to her side, embracing her in a tight much needed hug. She grips his collar hard, buries her head into his chest as she cries. His fingers run through her hair, cupping the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her temple. His own tears flushing furiously down his cheeks. She leans back, tips her chin up and stares up at him with the brightest smile he’s seen in a long time. Her hands reach to cup his cheeks, “I’ve seen you in Henry’s storybook. I used to read about you all the time. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

Robin laughs wetly, kissing her forehead once more, “It’s alright.” She hugs him again, wraps her arms around his torso and holds tight. “You are so beautiful my girl, more than I ever could have imagined.”

“Thanks dad.” She sniffs against his chest. He holds her for what feels like a lifetime, resting his cheek on her blonde smooth hair, the smile on his lips ceasing to disappear.  

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” He swallows hard, hugging her harder for a moment before pulling back, “I am so sorry.”

She wipes her tears with a wet smile, “It’s okay. I knew why you weren’t there.”

His heart clenches.

“Regina told me.”

His head falls, the memory of that night seeping through his brain. The fear and panic that ran through him as Hades lifted the crystal towards his love. He knew what would happen if he stepped in front of her, if he got in her way one last time. It’s why he did it. He had to. Knowing what he’d be leaving behind, but it settled firmly in his heart the second before he moved into the lightning path.

“They named me after you.”

His peers down at his daughter as she fumbles with her dark blonde braid, “Robyn. With a Y for distinction I guess.” She smiles small and moves to sit back down on the tavern bench, tugging on Robin’s hand so he follows.  He can’t stop looking at her. Enamored with every little feature. They have the same three freckles at the base of their chin. The same half side smirk and think pink lips.

She is so young though. Far too young to be in this place. To have lived her life already till it’s end. The thought tugs at Robin as he reaches for her hand, gripping it tightly with a shake of his head. It seems his daughter knows the question on the tip of his tongue before he can voice it.

“I saved my wife, Alice.” She hums quietly. “We were fighting off another sorcerer, Yzma. She was targeting Alice and I just stepped in the way.”  

Silence falls between them as Robin swallows down the information. Another family torn apart by a villain. Bile rises in his throat at the thought. So much death and pain invade the living world. It’s unfair. Ruthlessly unkind that it never seems to stop.

“I couldn’t let her die. I wouldn’t ya know? She deserved to live, I wanted that for her.”

Robin wipes at the angry tears and smiles up at his daughter, knowing the feeling personally. It appears he and his daughter are quite alike. Robyn sighs, toys with her bow for a few minutes. She knows why her father has fallen silent. Has heard the story of how he died a dozen times. Protecting the person he loved, sacrificing his own life for hers. She’s grown up knowing he was a hero from the fairytales, but her family spoke of a different sort of heroic. Regina the most deeply. They had spent many nights underneath the trees in Regina’s backyard talking about her father, the man who loved a once unlovable Queen right until the end.

“We have two kids. Adopted, but they are mine nonetheless. A girl and a boy.”

Robin’s eyes perk up at that, an easy smile parting against his lips as his daughter grins wide. “Elliot and Samantha. They are amazing kids.” Her eyes fill with tears as she swallows heavily, “I wish I would have told them I loved them one more time.” Robin’s thumb reaches up to brush away a droplet gliding down her cheek, “I’m sure they knew.”

“I hope so. It’s hard. I grew up without a dad and now they will without one of their mothers.”

His mind flickers to Roland. His son he never got the chance to hug one last time. Robin has spent many a day here in this tavern wondering about his boy. If he is alright. Where he is. If he remembers his father who loved him so deeply. He hopes his son stayed with Regina, she was the only mother Roland truly knew. Perhaps she and the Merry Men raised him together. He hopes but doesn’t know.

“She talked a lot about you.”

His brow quirks.

“Regina did. I wanted to know everything there was about the notorious Robin Hood. It made me feel like we were connected somehow, and not just by a name.”

“Only good things I hope.”

Robyn chuckles, sips down another round of whiskey with her own dimpled smirk, “Oh I know about how you used to push her buttons when you first met.” Robin grins, biting back his own smile at the memories as he waves his hand flippantly, “All lies I assure you. I was nothing but a gentleman to your aunt.”

“You shot an arrow at her.” She snorts back, “Three times actually.”

“I was saving her I assure you.”

“She tells quite a different tale.”

Robin laughs, runs a palm over his face as his daughter chuckles. It’s nice. To laugh. Truly laugh, from the base of his core. It feels like happiness. Something he hasn’t felt in quite some time being stuck here in this tavern alone. It’s good. A pure warmth that seeps through him.

“Are you waiting for her here?”

Robin nods gently, reaching for his daughter’s hand as she sighs out rather small, “Then I guess I’ll wait for Alice with you. If that’s alright?”

“I would love it.” He beams through the tears once more and wraps his arms around her. “We can get to know one another.”

She sniffs with a smile, “I’d like that dad.”

And they do. He gets to hear stories of her life, of all the adventures she had, meeting her love, how they’d been captured more times that she’d like to admit. The quirkiness about her wife, the way she can make Robyn laugh even when she’s in the surliest of moods. It was a good love. A great one. They wed in the Enchanted Forest, Regina had walked her down the aisle. It had been a nervous asking of her aunt at first, stumbling over an explanation that if maybe Regina would do it, it would be like having a part of her father there. Robin teared up at that. They keep talking about her life, her kids, a boy who was far too rambunctious for his age, a daughter softer than a flower petal. They were twins. Adopted from a town outside of New York.

On their seventh birthday, Regina had given them each their own horse, something the three of them could do together once they were older. Till then, they would take turns riding with their grandmother, a Sunday tradition.

The more he learns the more he misses her. As the time bleeds on forever, his heart begins to yearn harder and harder for her. To see her. Breathe her in. Feel her in his arms. Memories are all he has right now, memories and stories shared from his daughter. It’s not enough though.

It’s on a quiet fraction of splintered time where he and Robyn watch as another fellow patron of the tavern is reunited with her loved one that he feels something shift inside. A hard stone that falls in his chest. It constricts tight, squeezes relentless hard.

“Dad? You okay?”  Robyn slides beside him as he bends over the table, grimacing at the sudden onslaught of sharp pain. “Hey just breathe. Sit down I’ll grab you some water.” He nods, or at least tries to, a buzzing in his ears rings. The same moment it finally fuzzes out and the pain subsides, the tavern door chimes open.

She is there.

He wonders if he is dreaming. But there is no sleep in purgatory.

She is there, nervously flicking her dark gaze around the stone walls. Her hair is longer than the last time he saw her, not by much, still hickory dark brown though there is a thick silver streak in her bang. He stands, on shaky legs, his heart in his throat as she finally turns her eyes towards him, her mouth parting wide in shock as he slowly steps towards her.

“Robin?”

The sound of her voice makes it feels as though life has breathed back into him. Flutters from the base of his spine, winding warm and wonderfully through every fiber he carries. She is right there. Beautiful as he remembers. Beyond that.

It both steals his breath and pulses wildly through him all at once. He knows there are tears on his cheeks, but he can’t be bothered to wipe them away when his hands finally find her own, linking them together as he draws him up to his lips, pressing a hard kiss to the slightly aged skin on her palms.

“Hi.” She almost whimpers, taking her own half step forward, moving her hands from his to cup his cheeks, fingers scratching through his stubble and he could melt on the spot at the feeling.

“Hello my love.” He smiles profoundly at her. There are slight wrinkles around her eyes, deeper set one along her brow, into her cheeks. Little age spots dot around her temple, the grey silver of her hair curling gently about her shoulders.

She is more stunning than he could have imagined in this moment. Her eyes are the exact same, chestnut brown with long dark lashes. Her lips full and painted in soft ruby red. And her smile. He could spend the rest of his time simply taking in her smile.

“I’ve missed you.” She stutters, letting her hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, “I’ve missed you so much Robin.” The first sob trembles and Robin wraps his arms around her tight, carding through her long hair like he used to as she falls into his chest, a slight shake in every breath she takes.

Small. She is so small in his arms. Long gone are the towering tall heels that put her eyes just below his own, no, now her head tucks neatly below his jaw as she stands in simple flat shoes. It’s oddly endearing he thinks as he presses kiss after kiss to her temple, running his hands over her back, up and down, soaking in every single ounce of her.

Resting his chin on the crown of her head, he sighs softly, “I have missed you too my love.”

He rocks them gently, not quite ready to let her go just yet. She seems content enough to let him sway them slowly, her cheek pressed against his heart, her fingers toying with the collar of his shirt. He feels peaceful. For the first time since he walked through the tavern door himself. It’s finally settling in him. Simply because she is here.

“You waited for me.” Regina sniffs beneath him, tilting her head up to find his eyes as she smiles.

“I promised I would.” He smiles back, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile softens as she leans back into him, breathing steady breaths against his chest once more. He kisses her temple, shifts to reach down to her cheeks, the tip of her nose and back down to her lips. Gentle and softly feeling her pressed against him again. It’s pure. Warm and perfect as she winds her arms around his shoulders.

“Sit with me?”

She nods, lets him lead her to a table, taking long minutes to simply look at him as he does to her. His fingers running through her hair, thump swiping along the apple of her cheek. It’s like he never left her. Like she hasn’t spent the last fifteen years without him.

He sees her eyes flick to the silver lock resting over her shoulder, a slight apprehension running through her eyes. “I’m so much older than you now.” It catches him slightly off guard, the sliver of annoyance in her tone as she scowls between them. He can’t help the light chuckle that bubbles out, nor can he stop his light laughter when she turns the scowl his way with an irritated huff.

He cups her cheeks, making sure her eyes stay on his own as he shakes his head lightly, “Regina, you are stunning.”

“I’m old.” She pouts.

Robin grins, “No you’re not, and I still stand by my first point, M’lady.”

Her nose scrunches in that all too adorable way, and he feels his heart waddling out of his chest and safely back into her hands where it rightfully belongs.

The thought trickles through him. He’d seen it here before, the change that happens, and he wonders if it will work, if it will make her smile again.

He lifts her chin up, ignores the confusion in her eyes as he lowers his lips down to hers, pressing softly against her light smile. Warmth oozes into every pore as he inhales against her mouth, a hand moving to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer and closer still.

Her eyes are dazed as they pop apart, and though he couldn’t have cared less, the streak of grey in her hair is gone, the lines around her eyes smoothed out, even the little discolorations from age on her hands have faded.

“Still stunning.” He smiles, leaning in to capture her lips one more time. She doesn’t seem to realize what happened, possibly doesn’t really care now that he is kissing her again. She hums against his mouth, cards her fingers through his hair, pulling back enough to bump her nose against his before resting her forehead on his own.

“You’re biased.” She smirks happily, running the pad of her thumb beneath his eyes. He leans into the touch, heavily with a dimpled smile sent her way.

“Well I dunno about biased -” Robyn quietly interrupts as she sits down beside them, wrapping Regina is a tight tear-filled hug, “- though he does talk about you a lot.” She laughs as they pull apart, smiling brightly at her father. He blushes shyly at Regina’s cocked brow and rather bashful smile at his daughter’s remark. She could tease him further, but he is adorable, and she’s missed him, teasing can wait, right now she just wants to feel him, simply leans into his chest and tucks her head underneath his jaw.

He quite possibly could stay like this forever. But something inside has shifted differently. A tugging towards the far door on the other side of the tavern. He’s has what he needs to cross over. He can feel it.

Robyn sees it as she nods silently at his sudden shift. “Go on. You’ve been here long enough.”

He swallows and hugs Regina tighter as he gazes at his daughter, it seems so short of a time that he’s had the chance to know her. But she smiles softly anyway, reaches for his hand and squeezes gently. “I’ll see you again. You deserve to move on Dad.”

Regina sits back up, eyeing the two Locksley’s with a curious brow, as Robin lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles gently, “Are you ready?”. Regina nods, blows outs a wary breath but stands with him, locking her hand into his own. Robyn moves to hug them both, drawing it out as long as she can before stepping back, wiping away her tears and smiling brightly, “Be happy you guys.”

Robin kisses his daughter’s cheek once more, Regina moving to do the same before they walk hand in hand towards the far door, the warmth blooming with every step they take, soaking them fully as he turns the knob and the light glows around them.

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

“Always, Regina.”

They step through the doorway, together.

FIN.

 


	70. I Saw It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For OQ Happy Ending's Week   
> Day 1 - Bandit OQ

 

He’s knows a lot more than most people think. Nor is he as oblivious or situationally perplexed as many would like to believe. Granted he’s not claiming he’s the smartest out of the lot, but still, he seen enough of what’s been going on to make an educated guess, and he’d bet his bow he’s right too. 

 

It started with wide eyes and confused questions from some as a long, wild, brunette braid stepped into view. Most were baffled, uncertain as to why she was here, though he saw the way  _ he _ held a hint of excitement tamped away behind a curious brow as she approached the camps edge.

 

He’d seen the way a hand was extended, a small smile bitten back as welcoming greetings passed softly between the trees. 

 

More than once he’d caught lingering looks thrown about the camp as the other pretended to avoid their gaze, the shyness that filtered between them. 

 

No one else seemed to care when they’d sit half a log apart, both staring down at the fire, doing their damned best to not actually smile too wide, lest they be seen. 

 

Little had any of them actually paid attention to the quiet playfulness of words whispered into the sky, nor the blush that rose in cheeks as soft spoken sentiments flowed more easily of the tongue. 

 

They didn’t see it, but he did. As the leaves fell and snows grew, he saw it all. How their fingers began to brush softly against one another more often, the way a palm would lay gently on the small of her back in the middle of the night as they walked back to seperate tents, stalling for long moments, using the chill of air as a pitiful excuse to stand closer to one another. 

 

Snow had given way to spring flowers, and they didn’t suspect him of knowing in the slightest. 

 

To this day he assumes they have no idea he stumbled upon a first kiss hidden within the forest. Nor do they know had he heard the confessions spoken, the fear of being found out, the uncaring if anyone did, the second kiss that swallowed a silly protest down. The way they’d shared a breathless dopey grin before heading back to camp separately, horribly concealing their giddy glances towards the other, it took every ounce of self control to not roll his eyes. 

 

For two thieves they were terrible at hiding what grew between them. 

 

It’s not that he minds, truly. Sometimes it’s rather humourous to him how one says they are off to fetch water, and just happen to forget the bucket the other is so quick to chase after them with. How suddenly one horse needs to be the pack mule, and they are  _ oh so innocently  _ left to share a ride together. 

 

Or the concern that bursts through their eyes when the other befalls a slight wound. He can’t count how many times he himself has had to be stitched up without even much of a worried glance from the men, just a glove of whiskey and a laugh that he needs to be more careful - and yet, she barely pricks a fingers and the aiding cavalry arrives in the form of their leader. 

 

He supposes it’s sweet. How they lean into one another more and more as the warmth of summer settles in, the way his fingers comb through her braid, a smile that she buries into his neck when no one is supposed to be looking. He can see the happiness, the lightness that hugs them both. 

 

He thought he had seen it all happen, from the very beginning as a shy bandit walked into their camp, he was certain he knew exactly what was going on between them. 

 

And yet he finds himself standing stock still in the middle of a clearing, his jaw agape in shock at the sight of his leader laying in the grass, grinning like an utter idiot between pressing soft kisses on a small rounded bump of the bandit’s belly and the mentions of baby names being tossed about. 

 

It appears he too has been fooled in the best way. Not that he will ever tell them that. And it’s been going on clearly long enough and soon they won’t be able to hide it any longer. A fact he decides to make well known. 

 

They make their way back into camp not an hour later, her furs wrapped gently over her body, concealing their secret from the world.

 

He waits, all night nearly until it’s just the three of them at the fire. 

 

“You should consider John, if it’s a boy.” 

 

He smirks at their wide eyes and matching stunned faces. “It’s a good name, done me very well I’d say.” He stands, pats his friend on the shoulder with a chuckle as she buries her laugh into her hands. 

 

His grin pulls wide as he hears them both question quietly between one another who told him, how long has he known, when did he find out, and neither with an actual answer. 

 

He just saw the happily ever after from the very beginning is all. 

 

 

**See you for Tuesday's :)**


	71. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ Happy Ending Week   
> Day 2 - Tuesday

Missing Year OQ Happy Ever After

 

 

She hears him from a distance, behind concrete walls, beyond the thick, oak door, and over the happy chattering of a breakfast meal. 

 

It rattles hard in his chest, shaking his lungs with every shuddering intake of air. He looks like hell, though at least it’s better than two days ago. The color of his skin no longer a grey, nor do his eyes still hold the fog of sickness anymore. Still it’s clear as he walks through the dining hall that sleep is evading him thanks to the inability to breathe. 

 

It’s his fault however, this entire thing is. He is the reason they are both sick. It was his dumb idea she’d overheard that has now swamped their lungs and rendered both the Queen and thief incapacitated from illness. 

 

Bloody fools the both of them.  _ A moonlight swim -  _ the idiotic pair thought it’d be a brilliant way to spend some time together away from prying eyes and now look, he can barely move and the Queen hasn’t been seen in two days. 

 

Her sympathy runs rather slim as she watches his hand tremble in its reach for a mug of hot lemon water, nor does she find her heart whimpering for the way he sniffs pitifully and swallows hard, a bout of violent coughing that follows, doubling him over the table. 

 

They did this to themselves, and it appears she is the only one to connect the dots. 

 

The rest of the castle is in high spirits, not a running nose or hint of a tickling throat plagues any of them. But low and behold at the two who are riddled with the same virus. She knows they aren’t all hot tempered words and nasty glares at one another. Far from it in these last few months, in all honesty, even if they still try to uphold a pretense of mutual indifference and dislike in front of everyone. 

 

She has seen the way he now smirks rather than scowls deep at the Queen’s quick witted snaps sent his way. She has heard how the monarch of the castle now refers to the common thief by his first name in secret, a soft whispered thing when no one else is around. 

 

What solidifies it in her that they are more than they let on is the fact that as he walks past her now, giving her a small greeting smile, he is completely cloaked in the scent of her. The warm caramel she knows to be the Queen’s scent seeps through the pine smell she has grown accustomed to associating him and his men with,. It clings to him, almost possessively, as he leans to grab a round of bread, pocketing a second when he thinks she has looked the other way. 

 

Things needs to be dealt with, this wicked witch knocking at their doorstep and having the Queen a withering coughing ball of disease just will not work for any of them. She’s their best defense, even if the prince and princess refuse to admit it outloud. 

 

“You should be taking her a cup as well.” 

 

His brow raises high at her gruffing. Her steel blue gaze drops down to the mug in his hand pointedly, “She prefers two lemons, not one. It will calm the cough the two of you so stupidly obtained.” 

 

His eyes crease in confusion, a pitiful lie that he has  _ no idea what she is talking about _ barely wheezing through sore lungs. 

 

Its exasperating. The pair of them are honestly exhausting her wits to the very end. 

 

“Aye, so it’s simply coincidence that it’s only you and the Queen battling the same sickness?” She fills a second cup with hot water, dropping in two lemons. “Don’t argue with me, I am in no mood today.” 

 

He doesn’t. Stands there silently as she passes him the second cup along with a pear, they both need to eat something, he looks like hell and she is certain the Queen is fairing no lovelier than the thief. 

 

She waits for him to leave, but his eyes flutter with a thousand questions, one nearly bursting out. She knows they want this to be a secret, it bothers her not that they keep their affections behind closed doors and hidden away just for themselves. The Queen seems happy, as does the thief and his young boy, tis’ not up to her to pass judgement on the picking of partners. If anything, it has her heart chuckling at how alike the pair of them are deep down, even if outer appearances would beg to differ. They match. She can feel it in her bones. 

 

Her hand waves off his unspoken question as she huffs out a grinned, “You smell of her. Like lilacs and roses.” 

 

His brow cinches, “She smells of soft caramel, not flowers.” The words fall before he can bite them back, and she wants to laugh at the way his eyes panic at the confession. His head drops to hang low in defeat as she chuckles with a roll of her eyes. Seems sickness has slowed his brain a bit too much. 

 

“Take the tea, I’ll send lunch up for you both later.” 

 

He nods, runs a hand over the exhaustion in his face and smiles, bidding her goodbye. She watches him go, hearing his mumbling over how he was going to explain to Regina that the old woman had bested him over their apparently not quite so secret relationship. She is going to be furious with him.

 

The hours pass and she does exactly what she promised and walks up the long, winding staircases with a tray in her hand, deciding it be best that she deliver it lest someone else figure them out before they are ready. Though she wishes the Queen’s sleeping residence wasn’t tucked so bloody far away, the stairs are hard on her old knees. 

 

Sometimes she is grateful for the wolf’s magic that runs through her, most of the time actually she is, but there are moments that she wishes it could be turned off. Prying and nosiness aren’t things she wishes to partake in, but her hearing is sharper than a whistle and she hears more things than she should. Some are good, and others she’d give her left arm to burn out of her mind. 

 

It’s the softer words that she wishes her wolf ears wouldn’t pick up - it feels invasive listening to intimate moments not intended for her. Such as now as she pushes the Queen’s chamber door open.

 

She can hear him, he is sitting with her in the basin room, the sound of sponging of water trickling in the air as he runs a washcloth over her naked back, doing his damndest to rid her body of the sickness. Her breath rattles and shakes with every pull, though she can her hear hum gratefully every fourth breath, that it feels nice, she feels a bit better today, less fogged in the head, the tea helped but her muscles ache, he promises to soothe them after her bath. 

 

She can hear his own staccatod inhale and exhaling rythym, the way the Queen ask is he wants to sit in the water with her to help try and clear his lungs out as well. It’s a tell tale splash not thirty seconds later that ricochets around the room, the soft mumbled thank you that passes from his lips and into her skin. 

 

It’s as she sets the tray down on the Queen’s bedside table that her own old heart stumbles over itself. 

 

The muted light laugh of a young woman once lost to the darkness, the deep smiling chuckle of a man who has fallen in love and the soft bantering that the thief is damn lucky she loves him, for she hates being sick and it is all his fault, to which he agrees, presses a kiss to her overheated skin and promises to take care of her now and for as long as she’ll allow him. 

 

It grows silent in the room as comfort settles in, tucked away between two people. She can feel herself grinning as she walks back to the chamber door, the food tray left behind, and back down the steps she goes, one by one. 

 

She can hear the Queen from a distance, from behind the concrete walls and beyond thick oak doors, asking the thief to stay forever, and she swears she can hear him smile. 

 

Fin.

 

See you all Wednesday!


	72. The Tavern Barkeep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ Happy Ending Week - Day 3 - Dark OQ

Wednesday - Dark OQ - The Tavern BarKeeper

 

He noticed her the first time, how could he not. He knew of her and the stories of her reign. He knew of her beauty, heard the stories of that as well. What he hadn’t expected of the once great and terrible Evil Queen was the shyness as she approached the table where a single man had been sitting for hours now. 

 

He saw the way she fiddled with the hem of her jewelled sleeve, the deep steadying breath she took. It was odd to him. The clear nervousness radiating from a woman once known to conquer kingdoms in mere days. 

 

They had sat together, the Queen and the man, smiling bashfully at one another, little snickers covered behind mugs of ale. He’d watched them curiously from behind his bar the entire night, how they’d gone from a table between them to sitting side by side, and then shoulder to shoulder. 

 

His brow cocked high as the man pretended to stretch out of need, an arm so very casually moving to sling around her bodiced waist. He saw the way her eyes wandered over his quizzically, a moment of hesitation before she smiled timidly into what he can only imagine is a first kiss. 

 

They’d left shortly after, hand in hand and into the night. 

 

Over the course of the next year, as fall leaves turned into winters snow, as the chill gave way to spring lilacs and the summer warmth he’d seen them many a time. His bar had become their own quiet corner of seclusion. 

 

He knows they live not too far away, in a large cottage within the forest. They are modest, keeping mostly to themselves. She no longer wears elaborate gowns and fancy jewels that could feed a village for a decade. Simplicity suits her. Though from what he’s overheard this past year, she is anything but simple. The same can be said for her outlaw’d lover. 

 

There has been many a night when they have come into the bar, storming thunderous tempers and daggered words thrown back and forth. She is stubborn, he is reckless. He’s heard bits and pieces here and there, a story about another man she clearly once loved, one her current beau has a tension about. He’s lost count the amount of times it’s just been one of them here, alone and brewing over a single mug of ale. 

 

Twice he’s had to help the man he now knows is Robin Locksley stumble home, drunker than sin, slurring out confessions how his regal lady love is driving him utterly mad. It’s oddly sweet, the way he curses out to the sky about her temper, her lack of self worth, and everything else under the moon, until which he almost immediately smiles in his liquored stupor and begins recalling all the things he loves about her and other things that should probably be kept between a couple and their bedchambers. 

 

And twice he’s sat down beside the ex monarch with a refilled ale and let her too spill the things that plague her heart. She feels unworthy, unloveable and uncertain. It aches him the way a single tear slides down her cheek that she is quick to wipe away, not wanting to show too much weakness. He does his best to comfort her quietly, smiles as her thief walks into the bar later on and takes his place quietly beside her. 

 

For all of their bickering and fighting, more often than not he’s rolled his eyes as she once again clambers into his lap, kissing him senseless without care of the other patrons in the establishment. 

 

They love each other clearly. A fact cemented when they walk through the pub door on a slow night, beaming at one another as he moves to  _ their _ table, and she to the bar, a diamond ring glittering on her left hand as she reaches for two mugs of ale. He smiles at her, passes a soft congratulations to which she blushes and thanks him before taking her seat beside her fiance. 

 

And three months later he is hosting a small gathering of people he’s never seen before in his life. The ex Queen dressed up in a soft creme gown, swaying slowly in the arms of her new husband. He makes small talk with the guests, learns they are all from another realm and knew the pair in a manner of speaking, one he can’t quite wrap his head around. The night rolls out long and slowly the bar filters out as they head back home, leaving the newlyweds to sit at their table, another woman across from them, all talking quietly. 

 

He can see the Queen’s strange excitement as her eyes keep flicking to the clock in the corner, her outlaw doing his best to keep from bouncing on the spot as they entertain the woman into staying for at least one more drink, apparently they owe her after all. She looks just like the Queen, an exact replica though her hair is shorter, her smile not nearly reaching the brightness of her twin. 

 

The door rings open, and he turns to find something rather astonishing. A man slowly walking through the tavern door, his eyes trained on the back of the woman’s head. She shifts as the Queen nods in acknowledgment to the newcomer, and then time seems to still. 

 

It’s an embrace he can’t say he’s seen before. Perhaps they too once loved and yet lost one another. It’s clear in the way they hold onto each other, tears streaming steadily as they kiss and kiss and kiss. His eyes shift from the reunited pair to the other still sitting side by side, her head resting on his shoulder, his lips pressed against into her hair. 

It appears there is more than one happily ever after happening in his small tavern tonight. 

  
  


Fin. 

 

 

SEE YOU FOR THURSDAYS INSTALLMENT


	73. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ HAPPY ENDING WEEK - THURSDAY (DAY 4)
> 
> PRE CURSE - YOUNG OQ TAVERN

 

Something is off about his wife, and he doesn’t like it. 

He noticed the change after the fall harvest, and it’s been prodding his brain dangerously ever since. 

He married her for her beauty, for her supple body and youth. He married her for his daughter, who wished for nothing more than a mother once more. He married her because he could, because she couldn’t deny the King - if he wanted it, it was his. Cora had promised him the kingdom’s protection through her magic for her daughter’s hand in marriage. She claimed it to be a simple trade, one they would both benefit from, after all he owed her from their past, the way he’d scorned her so long ago. 

For the first two years she was a good wife. A beautiful, silent, submissive wife, who stood with her arm tucked into his, smiling as he instructed her to do so. That wide, bright smile has fallen into nothing more than a thin, unamused line of her lips, and he’s nearly lost his control on her for daring to disobey him. 

The desolation in her eyes no longer consumes her entirely, there is a strange flicker of light that simmers below now. She walks past him with a touch more confidence, her head steady and level instead of hidden and hung low. 

The hours in her day are less and less spent tucked away in her chambers and more often with her strolling simply through his gardens as though she too owns them, owns the flowers, the tree’s and the air she so greedily has begun to breathe in without his permission. 

She no longer cowers when he storms into her chambers, no longer winces and begs him to stop like the scared young woman she used to be. The tremble in her voice is slowly fading, her defiance building as she stares him eye to eye, goading him to hit her once more, to show the kingdom who he truly is. She won’t cover the marks anymore, the bruises pulpy and dark adorn her skin as though she is proud of them, mocking him in turn. 

When he demands her, she takes her time. If he strikes her, she doesn’t let a single tear slide. He can lock her up without daylight and she has simply slept through the punishment. Her clothing has become more and more inappropriate in his eyes, and she knows he doesn’t approve of the way other men ogle her in tight velvet, flirting shamelessly as they steal long glances at her half exposed breasts. 

Even his daughter has begun to notice the change. His wife nearly refuses to tend to her anymore, looks as though she’d rather jump off the highest tower of the castle than do his Snow’s bidding. No longer does Regina walk beside Snow’s horse in the afternoons, nor does she spend evenings combing through her hair, telling her stories and dancing like the puppet he bought for his daughter’s amusement. It’s not her place, nor does she have any right to decline the princess and yet she does. 

He knows people have begun to whisper, the rumors that skitter through the castle,  _ The King has lost control over his wife _ \-  _ The Queen is denying him - What sort of man beats his wife? _ It echoes in the halls and into his ears night after night as she lay beside him, turned away to face the balcony window and away from her duty. 

*****

He thinks she sleeps, but her eyes never truly close. Instead she lays still, measuring out every single breathe, a count of four inhaled, a count of six exhaled, over and over till his snores begin to shake the stone walls. 

It’s colder than she anticipated it to be tonight, the cement floors freezing as her bare feet touch down silently, but she makes no sound upon standing, not a whispered noise while crossing the bedchambers she shares with her “husband”, and not a hint of an echo as her eyes shift back over to the bed once more to trace over his lumped figure beneath the covers, the smell of putrid wine sweating from his skin. 

She stares longer than she should at the way his chest rises and falls, the thought running bitterly through her mind of how she wishes she could squeeze the life out of him, suffocate the air from his lungs and watch death take him away finally. But that isn’t the plan, as much as her fingers itch to close around his throat, the moon is already high and she is losing her chance. 

Her fingers close around the handle, and the door closes behind her. 

He’s taught her the art of silence, how to slip open a door without it creaking, the way to place a foot along wood and stone so it doesn’t crack and give her away, even the pacing of her breath, tight and unnoticeable. For months she’s been waiting for this moment, her heart a rioting cacophony in her chest as she turns down the dark tunnel, desperate to not start running out of fear of being caught when freedom is so close. 

Eighty six steps, she has to take them each as slow and silently as she can. Eighty six steps until she spies the old kitchen woman and her steal blue eyes waiting around the corner. She wishes to cry as a red cloak is draped about her shoulders, wishes to sob out a thousand thank-you’s to this woman who anchors a large, leather satchel across her back filled with supplies they will need, and a few personal tokens she knew her husband would never let her take. The jewellery that once wrapped thickly around her neck like a prisoners chain, will now feed her freedom for years. 

They walk without sound to the back door, a blast of chilled night air whipping around them both as the old woman leads her to the edge of the forest, darkness hiding them both from prying eyes and steel swords should they be found. 

She is terrified, wishes she wasn’t, but the fear licks up her spine with every blade of grass she passes.  _ They will find her, he will find her -   _ it runs rampant in her mind as she follows the old woman, willing her frightened tears cease before they fall. 

He promised to save her, to help her save herself, and she is throwing every ounce of trust into his code of honour right now, hopes to the high gods that this isn’t a mistake, that loving him won’t cost him his life as well as her own.  

She wants to run, but the twigs will surely snap beneath her feet, standing still and waiting for him to reach her is the only thing she can do. Her heart lurches as she sees him creep through the trees, the bright blue of his eyes smiling effortlessly upon his approach. 

He says nothing, simply grasps her hand and presses a feathered kiss to her cheek, then to her brow, one to the tip of her nose, the last to her lips. She can feel his relief, the way his palm moves to secure behind her back, the heavy exhale the puffs warmly out between them. 

He draws a thicker, moss green cloak from his bag, sliding it around her shoulders and tying it neatly in the front with a deep dimpled smile, his fingers brushing along her neck as he lifts up the hood to hide her raven hair from the sky. All she can do is stare at him in disbelief that this is all happening. 

He dips a questioning nod at her, silently asking if she is ready, and her heart beats solidly twice, answering him with an eager smile as her fingers move to lace with his own. She is ready to be free. 

The old woman presses a kiss to her temple, asks her to be safe and to never look back. She promises silently with a fierce hug thrown around her shoulders, a barely whispered thank you muffled into grey, curling hair. The old woman wipes the tears that slide down her cheeks, smiling softly as her steel blue eyes lift to the man behind her, once again asking him to keep her safe, he swears it on his life and just like that they disappear into the tree’s. 

Come morning when the King wakes, the Queen is long gone. He doesn’t care to search for long, relents and thinks her to be dead though he has no idea what she truly is, is finally free. 

Free to walk through the forest hand in hand with a man who would steal the sun for her if she asked. 

She won’t though, she needs nothing more than what he’s already given. 

After all he stole back a happy ending for her, and that is all she ever wanted.

 

Fin.

SEE YOU FRIDAY!


	74. Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ HAPPY ENDING WEEK - DAY 5 - CURSED OQ
> 
> POST SHATTERED CURSE (S4)

He heard bits and pieces of what happened back at the apartment, not much but enough to connect the dots as to why his mother was hiding in her room, hoping the door would muffle her tears. The shattered curse came, swept them all up into the darkest versions of themselves, and she had found him. Wrestling with the ropes he’d tied himself up to the tree with, a fireball burning in her palm upon approach. It was through whispered hushed conversations he gathered enough to know that it wasn’t exactly the most loving of interactions. 

At some point Robin had gotten free, an arrow knocked and pointed directly at his lover, at another his hands were around her throat her back against a tree, and what confuses him most is the fact that apparently his mother didn’t even try to fight back. From the stories he’s heard of the Evil Queen, backing down wasn’t exactly her m-o. 

Still, Robin or rather cursed Robin had shown up in the middle of the street, confounded and bewildered with anger. Until the curse broke and his face fell upon realizing what just happened. 

He hasn’t seen his mother since she closed her bedroom door when he walked through the front door. The entire situation is complicated, dead wife coming back isn’t exactly the easiest thing to deal with, and he knows his mother is trying to do the right thing and let them have their second chance as husband and wife. She is trying, but more often than not he sees her trying not to cry. It aches him to see her loneliness wrap itself about her heart once more. There isn’t much he can do to help her, that is the worst part. 

It’s late, he’s supposed to be asleep, but his mind continues to wander on how to make this decision better. It’s in his musings that he hears a small bang and his mothers gasp. Immediately he’s out of bed and ready to take down whatever intruder is trying to break in, he won’t let his mother get hurt more than she already has. The house however is quiet as he creeps down the hallway, baseball bat in tow. 

Pressing his ear to his mother’s door he hears hushed voices, one distinctly his mothers, the other accented and soft. For a second his heart pounds in his ears at the idea that perhaps Robin came back to finish his mother off. His hands grip around the bat as he reaches for the gold door handle. 

The sound of his mother’s heavy sigh stills him however. Her voice shaky as she asks why Robin is here, to which he hears Robin admit he didn’t think she’d answer if he knocked. It’s true, she probably wouldn’t have. He smirks and sets the bat down, squatting onto the floor beside it, just in case she still needs him. 

And he listens. 

“I’m sorry Regina, I am so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I nearly killed you! With my bare hands.” 

“An apology isn’t necessary Robin.” 

“The hell it isn’t.” 

It falls silent as Henry hears rustling behind the door, the closing of a window. 

“Robin I’m fine, you should go.” 

“Not until you tell me why.” 

“Why what?” 

“Why didn’t you stop me?” 

Quiet echoes through the hall as he slides a touch closer to the door, wanting to hear the answer he too had been asking himself over and over again. 

“Why does it matter?” 

“Regina, I had my hands around your throat and you did nothing. You were going to let me kill you.”

Her exhale is long, he figures she has settled back onto the bed, probably somewhere near Robin but not quite touching him, though he knows she wants to do nothing more than hold his hand. 

“You know why Robin...”

“You didn’t even fight back.” 

“I couldn’t!” 

“I don’t understand Regina, how could you not stop me from doing the one thing that would surely kill me afterwards.” 

“Robin….we both know that if I wasn’t around your situation would be a lot easier.” 

“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare say that to me.” 

“It’s true.” 

“Your wrong.” 

His heart aches from behind the bedroom door, the lack of self worth his mother has is deep and consuming. If he could use the authors pen for anything, he wishes it could be this, to undo what Emma had done, who she brought back, the pain she caused without thinking. Sometimes being a hero is complicated, and clearly not black and white. 

“Regina, I lo--” 

“Stop. Please. Don’t say it.” 

“I’ll say what I wish.” 

“Robin.”

“No Regina, I won’t stand here and let you pretend that what we have is nothing.” 

“It’s nothing anymore.” Her voice dejects lowly. 

“I refuse to believe that.” 

“You have a second chance with your wife. You’d be stupid to not take it. Not everyone gets them.” 

Robin sighs, shuffles closer to her Henry expects from the way she too relents a long dismal breath. 

“May I touch you?” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“Please Regina. After what I did today, I know I don’t deserve it, but I am lost. I need you.”   
“You can’t. We can’t do this. I won’t be the woman to break up another family.” 

“I understand this is a messy complicated situation and I loved my wife, but Regina, will you please look at me, please.” 

“You should go.” 

“I am where I’m meant to be.” 

“How can you say that?” 

“Because I love you. And I am not leaving until I am certain that you know that.” 

His heart stutters at the confession. He knew his mom and Robin were growing into something strong, but to hear it, the actual words spoken, it both melts and saddens him. This isn’t right. A forced separation between two people who clearly are supposed to be together. 

“It doesn’t matter Robin.” 

“Of course it does. I almost lost you today, by my own hand. It matters more to me than you will ever know. That this. What is between you and I, it’s real and I won’t simply give up on you.”

“So what. You are going to tell me you love me and then leave to go back to your wife? That’s not fair Robin. You can’t do that to me. I can’t hav--” 

Her words are cut off by what Henry can only suspect is a kiss. One that catches his mother off guard clearly by the way she gasps. 

“Robin, we can’t.” 

“I love you. I want you and only you.” 

 

“And what about Marian?” 

“I know I have to speak with her about where my heart truly lay. She deserves my honesty, and I owe it to the both of you.” 

“I don’t understand you.” 

“Much the same as I don’t understand why you were going to let me take your life tonight when we both know you could have incinerated me on the spot.” 

“You know why I couldn’t do that.” 

“Because you love me.” 

A beat of silence passes.

“I do.” 

“Then let me try and make it up to you. Let me try to be worthy of that love.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I do. And I will, so you can save the words I can clearly see on the tip of your tongue.” 

“So now what?” 

“Well, I get on my knees and grovel for a chance to stay.” 

He hears his mother chuckle. 

“How about you just get up here and kiss me again.” 

“That M’lady I can most definitely do.” 

He hears them shuffling, his mothers lightness back in her voice, the softness in Robin’s returning. She’s okay. They will figure it out. She doesn’t need him right now. Standing, he grabs his bat, turns one last time to her door with a smile. 

“I love you.” 

“And I you.” 

This situation isn’t over, far from it, but maybe they will still get to have their happily ever after, maybe it’s all about timing. 

Fin.

 

SEE YOU SATURDAY


	75. Fuck You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OQ HAPPY ENDING WEEK DAY 7 - SUNDAY - CANON OQ

He raises the crystal, pompously as only a man with flaming, blue, ridiculous hair can, a smug grin smeared across his ugly face. She listens to the words, how this crystal will make it be like she never existed, a soul obliterated into nothingness. He should know better than to fucking threaten the Evil Queen.

 

Bastard.

 

She feels Robin shift, and before any of them can truly move, her magic pulses the crystal into her palm, a delicate swirl of purple fading away as she smiles down at it, beaming, in fact, as the Lord of the Underworld’s breath sharply inhales.

 

“A soul would cease to exist?” she questions darkly, thumbing over the spiny opaque edges, “Sounds awful.” Her eyes lift to Hades, a flare of pride skittering through her at the sudden panic in his grey, bulging stare. Her magic roars the crystal to life as she holds it high, “Fuck you.”

 

It sparks, spearing the dark lord in the chest, his cry a sweet lullaby to her ears as his body crumbles into ash before her feet, a silver wisp of smoke evaporating into the air. She hums, busts the crystal in half and drops it to the floor.

 

Robin’s smile is wide as he steps into her, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, “That was incredibly sexy.”

 

She grins and takes his hand as he lifts his daughter into his arms, “Let’s go home.” And together they walk out of her office, leaving the smoldering remains of Hades behind them.

 

As if she’d let him take her happily ever after away, and now, no one ever will.


	76. Old Dog, New Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Fic for Sunday Day 7 - OQ Happy Endings Week   
> It's smut, it's just smut and you can all thank Britt (@sbstevenson2) for it.

She wishes she had kept her mouth shut and just appreciated the way his fingers thumped inside her, deep inside her. It was good, really fucking good, had that deep heat blooming in her stomach when his fingers crooked just so. He’d been situated between her thighs, spread and shaky as he stroked her relentlessly. It should have been enough, it could have been if she had just let it. But no, his fingers slow the second the request leaves her tongue. 

 

_ Can you use your mouth on me? _

 

Seven stupid words that had her orgasm vanishing within mere moments and her heart running to hide in embarrassment as his blue eyes furrowed upon gazing at her face. He slowed, but didn’t quite stop as he asked her what she meant, a question that had her burning from tip to toe. 

 

He’d asked her again what she meant, kissing up her throat, across her clavicle as she squirmed beneath him. Shyness in sex wasn’t really a part of her DNA, but for whatever ridiculous reason, it floods her. His lips brush against her jaw as he asks again what she means, and it finally occurs to her that in the Enchanted Forest this sort of … appreciation of your partner isn’t exactly the norm. Classically, it’s the wife that does most of the work, reciprocation doesn’t much happen unless a brothel woman suggests it. 

 

Opting to not have to explain it, she shakes her head silently and captures his lips in her own, flipping him own so she can straddle his waist, riding his cock with long deep passes, an orgasm isn’t entirely out of the question, and he doesn’t seem to mind the change. 

 

She just hopes he forgets she ever mentioned it. 

 

But he hasn’t. 

 

In fact the breathless request has been on his mind for days now, puzzling him. He had been kissing her, all of her, at least he thought. There had been plenty of time spent on her neck, long minutes sucking her nipples and down her ribs. He’d carried on with it until she was near whining beneath him, a beautiful sound no red blooded man could refuse. 

 

Still… she had asked something of him, and he was refute to not know what she meant. Her pleasure is important to him,  _ the _ most important thing to him when he is so lucky to have her sweaty and naked with him. So Robin does the only thing he knows in a situation like this, he asks his Merry Men, and he learned…

 

It had been Will that took up the charge, explaining certain things Robin had never even thought about. Marian had never requested his tongue to lick between her thighs, he’s never even given idea to the notion of sucking on the hard nub nestled within wetness, how that could bring a woman intense pleasure. Though it does make sense, he figures, after sitting around the fire with his men who regaled tales of their own experiences, lessons in such. It’s starting slow, he gathered that. Using his hands and mouth on a woman’s skin, her thighs, the apex of her hip, a teasing to stoke the fire. It’s about the anticipation in the beginning. A kiss here, one there, one just where Regina had wished for. 

 

There is a technique to it, apparently. Alan had implicitly implied that it’s of the utmost importance to listen to the woman, let her guide where his mouth should be and when she says not to stop, bloody hell you do not stop, at least not till she has pushed you away for a breather. 

 

He kicks himself now for denying her that. Not the next time though. No. He’s going to use his fingers like he knows she already likes, and he is going to use his tongue on her, give her what she wants. 

 

The more he thinks about it to himself later, the faster blood rushes south on him. The idea of seeing Regina from between her lovely cream thighs, tasting her, hearing the little whimpered gasps he knows he can already draw out of her, well it’s enough to have him palming himself through his breeches, stroking off to the idea of it all. 

 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he is going to do it and hopes to the high heavens that it isn’t utterly terrible. 

 

\----- 

 

She’s in her kitchen, slicing up a few remanent veggies as the chicken slowly roasts in her oven. It’s date night, and it’s going to be a good one. They figured out within mere minutes that Marian wasn’t exactly Robin’s long lost wife, which wasn’t easy for her to watch, but it’s in the past and it’s been six weeks and Robin is coming over, and she is wearing a rather tight, short, purple dress she intends him to peel her out of later. 

 

A wine bottle gets corked and she glances up at the clock, 6:28, he should be here any minute. Her stomach flutters at the thought. It’s a rare night it gets to be just the two of them, no kids around, no Merry Men asking for second helpings at her dining table and no evil villain to thwart. She has fresh clean sheets and a good fourteen hours with this man all to herself, and she intends to use every last minute of it. 

 

Her heart jumps as the feeling of warm hands coming around her waist, clearly the thief hasn’t lost his touch of silence. She smiles into the chaste kiss on her cheek, grins wider when his hands roam her sides appreciatively at her dress. A good choice it seems. A very good choice as Robin groans behind her, muffling into her ear how  _ delectable _ she looks in it. 

 

“You’re distracting me from dinner.” She smirks though doesn’t really do much to move from his wandering hands. “It’ll burn if you don’t stop.” She grinds her backside against him, “And you’ll be left starving.” 

 

She can feel him smile into her hair, his fingers digging into her hips as he whispers far too hotly that he  _ intends to eat very well tonight _ . 

 

Suddenly the flush of butterflies in her stomach vanish, swallowed whole by a flush of embarrassment at his word choice. Stiffening, she shuffles away from him, reaching for an onion she doesn’t need to chop, but it will give her some space to collect the skittering nerves. 

 

“You should not be allowed to wear that dress,” Robin exhales from a half step behind her. Shameless flirting she can do, is more than game for a few shared tempered words shared. 

 

“You’d rather me cook naked for you?” she cocks back, arching a brow at him over her shoulder, reveling in the way his eyes close for a moment, knowing he is picturing exactly that, his huffed, “You’re a devil woman,” breathed out as he leans against the island countertop. Tossing the extra onions into the sauce, she lets herself ogle him finally, the tight blue henley tucked neatly into a dark pair of denim jeans. He too looks good enough to eat. 

 

The way he bites his lip as she sways over to him has her flushing for an entirely different reason. His hands are on her hips again, drawing her to him slowly before his lips drop down to meet her own. It’s a good kiss - teasing and wet. He sucks her lower lip, nips it for good measure as she groans into him, carding her fingers through his hair, keeping him put. 

 

She jumps when the oven timer beeps shrilly, laughs into Robin’s neck as he moans about being interrupted. He follows her, stands stiffly behind with his hands still firmly in place on her back as she bends over, far too provocatively than necessary, but it has her ass pressed into his groin, has him groaning for an entirely different reason than well seasoned chicken. 

 

He lets her set the bakepan down, lets her even turn off the oven before he is back with his lips at her neck, effectively pinning her to the countertop. “You smell delicious.” 

 

“Are you saying my cooking doesn’t?” she quips back. 

 

He nips at her earlobe, sucking a line down her throat slowly, “Not as good as you.” 

 

For a moment she simply lets herself get lost in the feeling of him, of his tongue darting out to taste, “That’s quite a line.” 

 

He laughs and spins her around, bussing her lips quickly before she can slip away once more. His hands slide from her hips beneath the hem of her dress, his dull nails dragging it up the tops of her thighs, dangerously close to making her indecently dressed. “Dinner is going to get cold you know,” she breathes out against his mouth, unable to stop her hips from rocking into him. His fingers are good, very very fucking good, tracing along the silk lining of the garter she’s worn for him. 

 

He kisses her harder, gets a handful of her ass in one hand, squeezing as his other tucks between her thighs. The shudder that ripples through her has his half stiffy turning into a full blown hard on. The feeling of slickness against his fingers, the curves of her all pressed up against him, it’s almost enough for him to forget his entire plan for the evening and fuck her on the kitchen table instead. 

 

But that’s not his plan at all. 

 

He strokes her again for good measure, swallowing the moan that rumbles in the back of her throat. “Do you remember what you asked me?” he whispers against her lips. 

 

Closed eyed, she frowns, tries to chase his mouth as he moves a fraction away from her. 

 

“Regina? Tell me, do you remember?” His hand cups her, sliding the lace to find bare skin instead. “You asked for my mouth on you, yes?”

 

She stills, finds his eyes dark and heady as he waits for her answer. Her heart thumps in her chest as a finger dips into her, sliding wetly up to her clit for a cursory rub. 

 

“I know it’s not always custom in the Enchanted Forest…” she finds her voice, shaky as it is, as he thumps into her, hitching her breath at the same time. He smiles, his other hand wandering up her back  to the zipper between her shoulder blades, drawing it down slowly. “You’re correct there. It’s not something I have been privy to trying before.” 

 

She swallows hard as cool air hits her exposed back, the warmth of his hand skimming beneath the fabric. “We don’t have to.” 

 

His brow furrows for a moment as the shoulders of her dress drop down to her waist to pool, letting him take a good, long, appreciative look at her breasts housed in black lace. Maybe she doesn’t want to? Though by the way her eyes focus on his mouth as he curls his fingers inside her tells him a very very different story, one he is far too glad to read. 

 

“What brings you pleasure Regina is of great interest to me.” Another finger adds to the first, stretching her slowly. 

 

“Not all men enjoy it,” she quips back breathlessly. 

 

Robin smirks, dropping to his knees as he draws the rest of her dress down with him. “That is a theory I’d like to explore for myself, M’lady.” He exhales hotly against her skin, eyes drawn heatedly up to her own, waiting for permission. 

 

She nods slowly, drawing in a breath as his lips press against just beneath her belly button. The whine that leaves her lips as his mouth moves south is down right mortifying given he hasn’t even really started anything yet, just continues to tease with warm, exhaled breath and the feeling of scruff against her thighs. Robin grins between her legs, runs the pad of his thumb over the wet silk, rubbing measured circles from entrance to clit. He’s used his fingers on her many times, he knows what she likes and how she likes it, but the anticipation builds in his stomach as he slides his chin forward, licking a flat tongued line against her. His eyes peek up to her’s, finding them blissfully closed, her lovely lips bitten down on, desperately restraining herself from making another sound

 

So this is good, she likes this. Even goes as far as to roll her hips into his mouth as he continues to soak and kiss over clit. He can almost taste her, a notion that has his cock stirring. He can understand why this could be seen as pleasurable for both parties. The way she moans tightly, gripping the counter behind her, the pants that begin to drop shakily, it all has him acutely aware of how hard he is for her right now, more so because he is giving her this, something she wanted. 

 

He goes slow, remembers the advice from his men, and teases gently with a kiss here, a suck there, a long drag of his tongue, over and over again until her legs tremble beneath his hands. He parts his mouth from her, reveling in the frustrated whine that drips from her. He lets his hands roam instead, up her thighs, down to her knees and back up to her backside, giving the swell an appreciative squeeze. 

 

Her eyes finally flutter open, a shy smile gracing her lips as she cards her hand through his hair. Their eyes lock as he draws down the silk between her legs, helping her heeled feet step out of them before he tucks them away in his back pocket, a souvenir he tells her, something she rolls her eyes at with a light chuckle. 

 

She is beautiful like this, gorgeous even from his kneeling position, all flushed and smooth and wanting. He watches the way she watches him, her tongue peaking out to wet her lips. Did he mention she is stunning like this? Focusing back to his task, he leans and shuffles closer, spreads her open with his thumbs, bearing her to him. With one last prayer sent, he slips his tongue between her, licks a long flat stroke up to her clit and sucks the nub between his teeth. The sound she makes, the throaty  _ oh fuck _ is possibly the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. So he does it again, holds her steady and licks and licks and licks. 

 

Why some men wouldn’t enjoy this is beyond him now that he has tasted her, granted, perhaps not every woman tastes like his Regina does, they surely don’t sound like her, or feel like her. Maybe it’s different, but here on his knees, his face buried between her trembling thighs, and her hands scratching through his hair, he can’t imagine a better place to be. 

 

“Ro-Robin. Oh God.” She rolls harder into him, arching into him, “Fuck babe.” 

 

“S’good?” He muffles with another suck to her clit, doing his damndest to listen to what she wants, where she wants him, he’s still somewhat flying blind here, the first time in brand new territory, and he wants it to be good for her, wants it to be fucking fantastic. He hears her moan, a whimpered  _ yes _ , falling as she lets her hand drop from his hair and back to the counter,  _ so so good. _

 

He nods, presses a few kisses to the outside of her, to the crease of her hip, the inside of her thigh. The faint taste of sweat on her skin, the more heady taste of her swirling together on his tongue. He grasps her hips firmly, draws her back to his mouth and eats her greedily, sucking hard, forcing himself to not take his erection in hand, it’s throbbing in his jeans, but this is about her. It’s about getting her breath to quicken like it is now, the shake in legs to increase, he wants to hear her again, to hear the way she says his name, the slight pleading in her voice; he’d not known such an action with his mouth could provoke such provocative words to burst from her. 

 

He keeps it up until his hears her voice drop into that raspy tone, husky and begging for him not to stop, that she needs him to suck her clit,  _ please _ . He grins, and does as she asks, spreading her with his fingers, pressing his tongue hard to her. 

 

“Oh fuck - oh fuck fuck fuck.” 

 

He sucks the swollen bud between his teeth, pulling gently away till she slips from his lips, his eyes dart up to see her, mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut, hair falling around her shoulders, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He ducks back down, further down, letting his tongue dip into her entrance, revels in the way she squirms and moans with a gasp, and runs his tongue along her entire sex, avoiding her clit for the moment, pressing a row of kisses back down. 

 

“Robin. Robin, wait. Oh God. Wait. Stop.” She’s breathless, curling her torso over him, but her hands move to tug his mouth away from her, and he sinks. He’s gone and fucked it up. It had been going so well he thought, but she clearly needs him to stop, hasn’t even reached orgasm and yet she is pushing his head away, slumping back to the countertop with a huffed out breath. He tries to not show his dismay, he really wanted to do this for her, to bring her pleasure. Instead he listens to the way she draws in long inhales, letting his hands smooth up and down her thighs gently, his hard on slowly dying off. 

 

Her fingers move to draw his downcast eyes up to her own, and for a moment he is rather confused, she is smiling, beaming in fact, all rosy cheeked and sweat sheened. His puzzlement only grows at the sound of her chuckling, her thumb moving to swipe across his lips tenderly. 

 

“I can’t do this.” She grins, and Robin frowns perplexed but nods. It’s her decision after all. He tried. He stands, adjusts himself and goes to draw her dress back up but her hands move to squeeze his wrists, halting the lift of her dress over her hips. “I just meant I can’t do this here.” Her brow arches high as she bites down on her lip playfully. Robin swallows and waits for her to give him some sort of direction, though the only thing she does to is slide her dress back down till it pools at her feet. “I’m afraid if you keep doing that while I’m standing, I’ll not be able to hold myself up for much longer.” 

 

_ Oh. _

 

Well that certainly doesn’t sound like she wants to stop, not in the slightest actually. He grins, a smug half dimpled thing. “Lead the way, M’lady.” He follows her up the stairs, follows her half naked self up the stairs, all bare skinned and swaying right in front of his eyes, tempting him devilishly. By the time they reach her bedroom door he swears he’s never been this hard for her in his life. And she’ll have to forgive him for already unbuttoning his pants, the constraint unbearable thanks to her bare ass. He’ll ask for forgiveness later, right? 

 

Regina slams the door behind him, her lips smacking into his own, his surprised  _ oomph _ swallowed quickly by her. It’s all soft curves pressed up against him, all creamy skin free for his hands to slide over, greedy in his mapping of her body. 

 

Her tongue darts, sliding against his own. “You taste like me,” she mumbles and kisses him harder, grips the hair at the nape of his neck, “I like when you taste like me.” 

 

She is going to kill him. He is absolutely certain. Hearing things like that, the way she says it, the sound of her as she says it, it’s all becoming a bit more than his self control can handle, and he still wants to finish what they started downstairs, and if her wandering hands along the waistband of his boxers are any indication, if he doesn’t get started, he’s going to be balls deep in her before his tongue can sample her body once more. 

 

Swooping down, he lifts her up, her legs crossing around his hips, a breathless chuckle leaving her as he walks them back to her bed, depositing her onto the soft duvet with a gentle bounce. For a moment, as he drops his jeans down, he lets his eyes wander her body, from the tips of her toes and crossed ankles to her toned stomach and flushed cheeks. 

 

“You alright?” 

 

“Simply admiring my love.” He smiles and bends down over her, nipping at her lip, a hand finding a palmful of her breast, groping and thumbing over the hard peak hidden beneath the lace. She groans into him, parts her legs and lets him settle between them, his erection rubbing over her sex with every roll of his hips.

 

It’s good. It’s really _ really _ good. She’s already keyed up from the kitchen, her skin simmering hotly beneath Robin’s touch, the coil in her abdomen ready to pop when his fingers reach back down between her, stroking and parting before he dips a finger inside once more. She begins to babble again, “Oh fuck - God - Robin - please - please Robin.” Her voice is high, tight and breathy as he slides a second and third finger into her, and he can’t help but bite down on the cord in her neck as she arches up into him. “Please what, Regina?” 

 

She whines plaintively into the pillow, clenching against his fingers with every cadence of her hips against his palm. He’s deep, stretching her deliciously, curling against that spot that has electric sparks skittering across her entire body, a heat that pulses, flushing her entirely. 

 

“Was it good, my love?” he whispers against her throat, “Did it feel alright?” He nips, sucks and licks a line at her jaw, dotting a kiss to her nose as she turns to look at him with confusion. His fingers slow to an easy stroke, and there is a sudden nervousness to him, an odd shyness she isn’t accustom to seeing in his eyes. The outburst of light laughter catches both of them off guard, and her hand flies to cover her mouth as she shakes her head, arching up to press a kiss to his lips. “It was good Robin. Really really good.” 

 

He smiles into her mouth, cocks a brow as he pulls back, “Are you certain? I can try something else if it --” Her fingers squish against his lips, effectively shutting him up. She lays back down, underneath him, draws her fingers through the stubble on his jaw, and before her own nerves can get the better of her, she tugs at his lower lip, blinks up at him with all the horny hope she can muster, “Please.” 

 

Her heart thumps at the way he grins, the way he chews on his lip, a question on the tip of his tongue. It’s strange to have these moments, his fingers are still buried inside her, yet she feels this rush of gooey adoration for him. But it also knocks her that maybe his hesitation is because he simply didn’t like doing it. She swallows thickly and clears her throat, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

 

His eyes flick up to hers, disconcertion fighting with a bashfulness. He half smiles, rubs his hands along her sides, beneath her breasts and back down, “I want to, but I want it to be good for you.” 

 

“It was.” She smiles up at him, but is doesn’t seem to do much to fade his timidness. His nose twitches as he sighs, a furrow in his brow as he thumbs over her sex again, “I want it to be better than good then. I’ve never done this for a woman before. I don’t in truth know what would make you feel the most pleasure, and I want to give that to you, I want--” 

 

She hushes him with another kiss, he’s sweet, her thief, her adorable, loving, thoughtful thief. Perhaps he just needs a bit of encouragement, and that she can definitely do for him. “I was going to come so hard down in the kitchen.” She wraps her thighs around his back, hunkering him to her, “I was so close, so so close to coming in your mouth.” He groans, drops his head into her chest, nipping at her breast with a muffled, “You were?” 

 

Her moan is probably a bit dramatic, but he needs an ego stroke, and she wants that orgasm, and in truth he was pretty damn good with his mouth for a first timer. She  _ Uh-huh’s _ , and arches into him, letting her legs drop from him as he slides down her body and starts slowly grinding his fingers in and out once more. 

 

“Can you do that thing again?” she whimpers. “Please, Robin.” 

 

He stops just shy of her clit and peers up, “What thing?” 

 

“With your tongue, those long, flat licks; I liked that.” 

 

Robin grins, and Regina falls back against the pillow, _ ego stroked. _ He starts it again, presses soft kisses all along her sex, keeps his fingers thumping dully inside her. He twists his wrist, back and forth, pressing down on the soft, slippery spot that makes her writhe and rock into him. And then he lets his tongue taste her again, the way she’d asked, from entrance to clit, her breathy, “Yeah just like that,” spurring him on. 

 

“Tell me.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Tell me what feels good.” He sucks at the swollen nub, “I want to know all of it. What’s good and what isn’t.” His mouth parts from her, and he looks up to find her toying with her nipple, the other hand clenched against the pillow beside her temple. “Will you tell me what will bring you pleasure?” 

 

She nods, eagerly, drops the hand at her breast down and into his hair. “Keep going.” 

 

He does, peppers her with a trade between his lips, his teeth and his tongue. He sucks gently again and again, swiping his tongue over her with each pass until she is panting, steadily rolling her hips against his mouth. He drops an arm over her hips, securing her to him, to his tongue that licks and fucks her slowly, and he listens. Listens to the whimpered half directions she gives him,  _ Right there, suck harder, just a bit left, oh fuck right there, more, more, don’t stop, Fuck Robin. _

 

She’s beautiful, all of her, and the taste of her is something he can’t describe, couldn’t if he tried, all he knows is that he wants more. She arches, whines and moans, and he doesn’t relent, pushing his fingers into her with quick, sharp raps, sucks where she asks and swallows the wetness that builds until she is trembling, a broken cry escaping when he sucks her between his teeth and flicks his tongue quickly over her. 

 

“Oh fuck! Do that again - Oh god, please!” Her voice has gone all high and breathy again, squeaking out as the coil of orgasm rushes forward. 

 

Seems he’s found a winning strategy. 

 

He closes his mouth around her, sucks hard and pumps his fingers into her, his eyes trained on the blush that rises into her skin, the arch in her back, the fisting of her hands into the sheets, it’s easily one of the most erotic moments he’s experienced. And then she comes, comes hard with a shout and the taste of her soaks into his mouth. He groans, doubles his efforts to prolong this as long as he can, at least until her hand is pushing against his temple. He lets her clit slip from his lips, and she falls back into the mattress, spread, sweaty and absolutely perfect in his opinion. 

 

Rising up onto his elbows, he trails his hands over her thighs, slides along her stomach, up between her breasts; he can feel the rapid beating of her heart, erratically thumping beneath his palm. 

 

Catching her breath, she sits up on her forearms, finding Robin, flushed, messy and grinning all wide and dopey , clearly impressed with himself. 

 

“We are definitely doing that again.” He kisses the inside of her thigh, “More than once.” 

 

Regina flops back down into her pillows with a breathless laugh, her body tingling and warm and most certainly ready for a second round as she cards through his hair with a smirk, “Definitely.”

 

And it appears so is Robin, and so is his mouth, as he starts it all over again, and she thinks she could get very, very used to this. 

 

Fin. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
